


underworld

by Smaragaide



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Suspense, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 194,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smaragaide/pseuds/Smaragaide
Summary: Petyr Baelish owns the most exclusive and seductive nightclub in the big city of Kings Landing that caters to the rich and powerful. It's the place where all shady business deals happen. A world of sex, drugs, murder and waring mafia families. To the mafia, he is also known as The Cleaner. The man that makes problems disappear. Little do the warlords know that he is undermining them to bring it all down. With the unlikely ally of a young girl saved from a grisly murder, he teaches her how to play the game and exact her revenge as they both fall further down the rabbit hole.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to take this moment to apologize to readers for deleting all of my works. I was in a very dark place (one I'm trying to crawl out of still) and just wanted to remove myself from the world.
> 
> Luckily, AO3 saved everything at the time I deleted my account and I have a record of each story. Unfortunately, all of the stories need to be edited because none of the paragraphs, punctuation was properly saved. 
> 
> I will endeavor to edit and re-post the stories if anyone is interested in them. I had quite a few followers and devoted readers (who I appreciate more than they know), but at the same time, these stories are not new and I'm not expecting any interest since many of you have already read them. 
> 
> I'll leave it to you.

* * *

 

 

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

The thunder was rolling in as Petyr drove up the winding road to the hills. It had been a long time since he had taken this road and knew what lay at the end of it. The soft hum of his Jaguar contrasted that of the storm that was coming behind him. By the time he got there, Petyr was sure he was going to get drenched and wished he brought his trenchcoat. He touched the console and pleasing sounds of jazz filled the car relaxing him. He didn't know why he was so tense; it was just another job to clean up.

Cersei Lannister texted him forty minutes ago demanding that he haul his arse up to the Stark's mansion in the hills and fix a problem. Petyr truly hated her and her damned arrogant son, Joffrey. Out of all the mafia families he technically worked for, the Lannisters were the worst to clean up after. Joffrey was a spoiled rich boy with far too much power after his father, Robert, died from a knife to the belly. The Baratheon's were the family to contend with in the mob world and Robert was not a man to trifle with. He was ruthless and killed anyone in his path keeping the other families or _houses,_ as they were nicknamed _,_ in line. It was only a matter of time before someone killed him, for the crown was heavy in this dark underworld.

It didn't surprise Petyr in the slightest at his death. In Robert's final year he was getting sloppy, predictable and too content with his power. He spent most of his nights at Petyr's exclusive club that catered only to the rich and powerful. Robert went through whores like a child eating candy. On multiple occasions, Petyr needed to persuade Robert's wife, Cersei, that her husband was elsewhere. It was bad enough when Robert was alive but now his wife and son were unbearable. They strived to keep their power over the other houses but with her son, Joff's unpredictable bouts of madness and lust for depravity and killing, Petyr never knew quite what to expect anymore. They were becoming very unreliable friends and it was about time to get rid of these two pebbles in his shoe.

Petyr rounded the corner and saw the cast iron gates to the Stark compound. The Starks were an old family and the only one that really rivaled that of the Lannisters in power but maybe not so much in wealth. Robert married Cersei solely for that vast wealth her father Tywin held. The Starks were a conundrum, Petyr thought. Ruthless when needed, but overall just did business as usual and tried to keep out of the squabbles between the other houses. Brandon and his father were feared but when the younger son, Ned, took over, it was clear he didn't have the stomach for the family business. Petyr always chastised him for his honourable ways and thought it would get him killed one day. Ned wanted to get his family out of the business, but Petyr knew better. You didn't just walk away from this. One couldn't decide to quit and think it wouldn't have dire consequences. Ah, but the Stark's were never the brightest of the houses. Brute strength and loyalty was their calling card. Petyr never understood why Cat married him.

 _Cat_ , he sighed. Petyr hadn't seen her in years.

Petyr drove into the compound and stopped on the cobblestone driveway. The music was indulgent as he lit a cigarette and waited in the car. He didn't want to hear that annoying brats voice just yet and took a long drag of sweet tobacco. Thinking back, Petyr was just a boy from the city when he fell into this world. He did odd jobs for the Arryns and Tullys and came to know them very well. Not long after both Tully daughters were married off did Hoster and his wife find themselves murdered in their own bed. Petyr grew up with those two girls as Hoster, their father, took a shine to him and kept him within the family. Petyr was not a physically menacing lad but he was smart and learned everything there was to learn. Only when he overstepped his bounds and fancied the eldest daughter, did Hoster send him away to the Arryns. After a time, he found that the youngest daughter, Lysa, was in love with him but he had only eyes for her sister Catelyn. He used Lysa to climb the ladder and make himself indispensable. Petyr found that he was brilliant with finance and getting people what they wanted or getting rid of problems. Soon, he was sought after by the Lannisters and Baratheons to help keep the books and broker deals between the houses. Petyr ended up making all the houses a great deal of money as business soared and he left the Arryns for his own place in Kings Landing, a place where money and power were the game.

The Mockingbird was a very private club in the heart of the city. For all intents and purposes, it was also a front for many of the shady dealings within the mob families. The exclusivity and posh atmosphere made it the hot spot for all the wealthy, politicians and powerful people in the city,¦ their friends, associates and unfortunately families. It catered to all pleasures Petyr sold to them. Business deals could be struck in one area while playing cards and drinking cognac while others were in the private rooms delighting in sexual pleasures of every kind. Petyr had so many politicians and police in his pockets, among enough information to blackmail them anytime and anywhere, that he never feared being arrested. Knowledge was power and wielding it just the right way was more effective than thugs and guns. Petyr was neither a strong man nor a skilled assassin, but his brain and cunning ways were the key to his success and keeping tabs on those around him. Information was the game. Knowing your foes, keeping those enemies close and how to move each piece was how Petyr played his silent chess game. He was trusted, reliable, and indispensable as far as keeping the business running. He couldn't have been in a better position to break each house down and eventually destroy them. They would never know what hit them until it was too late and took control of everything. Petyr tired of being their man long ago; to do their bidding when needed. He either wanted out or wanted to take it all but he would be smarter than the Starks.

Petyr looked at the softly lit mansion. It was rustic and not his taste at all. The Starks were never city people. He could understand Ned's desire to get his family out of the business. He had daughters to think of and in this syndicate, sons, and daughters usually married into other houses to ensure trust, make amends and strengthen alliances like in the days of old. Ned just went about it in the wrong way by declaring his intentions by refusing to wed his eldest daughter to Cersei and Robert's boy, Joffrey. It was all the talk in the city and after Robert's demise; Cersei took it upon herself to run her husbands house. The Lannisters and Starks never did get on but Robert had a soft spot for his friend, Ned and became the barrier between the two. Now, there was no one to protect the Stark house from the Lannisters wrath at being insulted.

 _It was only a matter of time_ , Petyr thought again. Joffrey was unpredictable and anything could set him off. Whatever happened, the Starks paid a heavy price if Petyr was called to clean it up. He knew they all must be dead inside. Ned, Cat or their eldest son, Robb, would never have allowed anyone from the syndicate to enter their compound. Petyr just hoped it was quick. He would have hated to think that Cat suffered. He had tried to call her a few times urging her and the children to leave Kings Landing, but not once did she reply. She probably never forgave him for working with the other houses so closely or backing the Starks in business deals with Robert and the Lannisters. Petyr was no fool, choosing the Starks would have been his death as well. The Starks never really knew what game they were playing or how to play. It seemed poor moves cost them dearly.

Petyr was about to flick his cigarette butt out the window but remembered why he was here. Extinguishing it inside the car, he exhaled the smoke as the rain began to pour down.

" _Fuck_ , I knew it," he muttered under his breath. He zipped up his leather jacket and opened the door exiting the car quickly. Popping the trunk, Petyr rifled through the items he would need and picked up the leather duffle bag. He made his way to the front steps noting where he stepped and looking for any evidence that the stupid blonde boy may have left behind for the cops to find tying him to what he bet was a family homicide.

Petyr would have preferred to leave something behind to link Joffrey and send his arse to prison, but he knew the Lannisters would kill him for fucking it up and not saving their golden boy heir. Petyr put on his gloves and opened the door. Just as he as instructed Cersei to tell her boy, he was sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase with his two minions for friends. Joff was wearing gloves but the two idiots with him were not, which meant fingerprints. Petyr cursed their stupidity for it only made his job more difficult. He glanced to the left and saw Ned's dead body. Multiple gunshots and it appeared he tried to crawl away before bleeding out.

Joffrey went to stand, and Petyr held his hand up. "Stay there," he commanded with authority as he looked around the foyer.

"I'm not a fucking dog, don't tell me what to do, _Cleaner_. You'll clean the shit off my arse if that's what my mum told you to do," the boy sneered.

"If baby wipes are all you need, then I daresay I'm done here. Your mum could have sent anyone to a convenience store for you," Petyr turned to leave, "Unless, you're certain that there are no fingerprints or any evidence at all that will send you and your friends to prison for the rest of your lives?" The smile on Petyr's face didn't reach his eyes but he knew by the look on Joffrey's that he hit a nerve.

"I am not one of you or your mum's dumb henchmen. If my services aren't required then I wish you boys the best of luck," Petyr chuckled and began walking out when one of the boys called out.

"Wait!"

Petyr turned around and raised his eyebrows.

"Joff, don't be a fucking prat. I'm not going to prison for this. This was your bloody idea." The boy urged and Petyr had to stifle a laugh. How did these morons manage to pull this off in the first place?

"Fine. What do we need to do?" Joffrey begrudgingly huffed out.

Petyr unzipped his jacket and set down the duffle bag. "Was this fully planned or just a colossal fuck up that you managed to live through?"

The boy glared at him but Petyr didn't care. He wasn't here to stroke this kids ego, but to clean up the fucking mess he made as best as possible.

"We - I planned it. We took out the few guards outside quietly before entering the house and..."

Petyr cut him off, "Where did you enter from?"

"The front door, of course."

"And Stark didn't find it odd that you were calling so late at night? What time did you enter the house?" Petyr scanned the foyer looking into the adjacent rooms. He could see a man lying face down by the sofa with his legs stretching out. Multiple shots could be seen in the walls. Hell, even he was a better shot, Petyr thought.

"About ten. I told him I wanted to discuss the marriage to Sansa and just opened fire on his arse. Fucking Robb came bolting in and we killed him too. Got that wanker in the chest over there by the sofa."

Petyr opened his bag and slipped surgical booties over his shoes and pulled out latex gloves. He threw pairs of each to the three boys. "Put these on. Where is the rest of the family?"

Petyr wanted to smack the smug look off of Joff's face. "I made that cunt watch as we killed the little boys." Petyr walked over to Ned and checked his vitals to avoid looking at that little fucker. He needed to stay cool. They were all dead and there was nothing Petyr could do to save them now.

"Where?"

"In one of the bedrooms. That little girl was the most fun though. Never thought that bitch had it in her. She almost shot me, but I took her out in the hallway," Joffrey jeered with delight.

"Fuck you, _I_ shot her to save your stupid arse. She was close to killing you, you arsehole," the other boy objected. "The way you talk, it sounds like you're one man army gunning them all down. Never would have made it past the guards without us..."

"Shut... the fuck... up," Petyr growled. "What about the other sister, Sansa, is it?"

"Oh, _that_ cock tease? She got was she deserved." Joffrey glared at his friend, "I shot her twice including a head shot. She's dead in her room. Would have loved to fuck that firecrotch of hers first, but she tried to stab me and then ran off when I fired at her." He smiled grotesquely and added, "Should have fucked her anyway, that pussy would have still been warm as she died."

Petyr had heard and seen some fucked up shite in his day, but this boy really took the cake. The only other that rivaled him as king of the sick and twisted fucks, was Bolton's boy, Ramsay.

Petyr looked around him and at the three teenage boys before him. "You two," and he pointed at Joff's idiot minions. "We need to retrace your steps and everything you could have touched." He gave them cloths and spray cleaner. "Miss anything and you two halfwits should enjoy being the new fucktoys in prison. Next time you plan a killing spree, where fucking gloves. All of you, put your guns in the bag."

The two boys dropped their Sig 9mm's and Joffrey's custom Colt .38 with the magazines in the trash bag.

"I'm getting that back, right?" Joffrey demanded but Petyr took the bag and didn't reply.

"You, with me. Watch where you step, do NOT step in any blood if you can help it." Petyr signaled Joffrey to follow him into the sitting room where Robb's body lay. "How did you plan for this to look once it was done?" He bent down and checked Robb careful not to step in his blood.

"What do you mean? We took out the guards and then if they let me in, we would just kill the rest of them. Fuck the Starks. My family always hated them."

" _Exactly."_ Petyr looked at him in the eyes."I will ask again, did you have this planned or was it just a fucked up shoot out?"

Joff's eyes were vacant, as he didn't understand the question and Petyr sighed. "Motive, boy. That's what they will be looking for; not just the cops but the other houses as well when they find out the whole family was gunned down." He hated having to explain the most obvious shite as if speaking to a five-year-old. "Your family has the most to gain with the Starks death and had motive by Ned's refusal to marry Sansa to you."

Finally, realization clicked and the blonde started to look nervous. Petyr's mind began to plot out scenarios.

_Boltons. They've always been jealous of the Starks, Roose had made an attempt on Robb's life once before and made threats about killing Ned to gain everything he had. Ramsay is bold enough to do something like this and not think it through and has a reputation for being unpredictable and brutal. Executing the children and mother is right up his alley._

Petyr looked at Joffrey and shook his head. "No one would believe _you_ pulled this off."

Joffrey was ready to argue with him, but Petyr stopped it before it began. "You would have bragged about this, yes? Well, you're not going to. Maybe you're proud to murder women and children, but you're not going to say a fucking word. Your high priced lawyer will tell you that. After you leave here, you will shut your fucking mouth, do you understand?"

Joffrey nodded and something clicked in Petyr's mind. "Give me your mobile."

"What the fuck for?"

"You took pictures and video, didn't you?" It wasn't really a question; somehow Petyr just knew this moron couldn't resist recording his triumph. "Didn't you?" Joffrey's eyes told him the truth and he handed over his phone.

"Please tell me you're not dumb enough to text this shite out." Petyr said more to himself as he scanned the boy's phone. "I'm deleting all of this and breaking your sim card. Mummy will just have to buy you a new one." Petyr's sleight of hand removed the memory card before demolishing Joffrey's phone. "Bring me their mobiles." Petyr pointed to boys cleaning up their potential evidence.

Petyr never understood this generation and their need to record every fucking thing. The three memory cards he would hold in safe keeping in case he needed it in the future. This was something he could barter with or sell to the right bidder. After he dismantled the phones and put them in a trash bag he summoned the blonde to follow him.

"Come with me upstairs and show me the rest."

This is what Petyr had been dreading. He had no problem with anyone else that he had to clean but he wasn't truly prepared to see what these boys did to Cat and her children. At the top of the stairs, he saw the dark-haired daughter, Arya. Shot on the side of the head and leaning against a chest of drawers in the hallway with a rather beautifully engraved Ed Brown .45 still resting in her palm. Petyr wondered how a girl her size even handled a gun like this. She had to be only a few years younger than the eldest daughter who Petyr knew was approximately twenty. Examining the gun, Petyr saw Arya's name engraved in the polished steel and thought better to take it along with the extra mag in her pocket. It would be better if she looked more innocent than deadly attacking her murderers.

In the master bedroom, Petyr held his breath and pushed the door open. By the edge of the bed huddled together were mother and sons. A sadness filled his eyes knowing he could do nothing for them now. Cat didn't deserve to die like this, watching her children slaughtered before being executed herself. All three were shot in the head execution style and Petyr couldn't stop staring. Cat had a wound to her throat and knew the bastard missed and she died most horribly before finally put out of her misery. He wanted to kill this damned boy right now, but he knew the time wasn't right. He would bring down this fucking family and make Cersei and her boy suffer for this.

Petyr could sense the murderous boy leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face. Petyr took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. He would take his revenge later. It was always best not to act out in anger and make mistakes. No, a cooler head needed to prevail here if his plans were to work out.

He held out an empty trash bag to Joffrey. "Fill it. Jewels, money, anything valuable," Petyr instructed.

"Why? I don't want their shite. Don't you know how rich I am?" Joffrey scoffed like the arrogant bastard he was.

"Yes, and so does everyone else. Sacking the house and taking all the valuables will help make it look like a robbery gone wrong or at least a murder by someone that needs the money. At the very least, you want to cast doubt that it was you."

Petyr hated this boy, but he needed him and his mother to think he was actually helping them. Joffrey took the bag with glee and began tearing drawers out and filling the bag with Cat's valuables. Petyr thought there would be a safe somewhere but it didn't really matter. As long as it looked more like thievery rather than a straight-up premeditated mass murder, maybe he could kill two birds with one stone - the Boltons and the Lannisters.

Petyr moved down to the end of the hallway, to the only open door left. The eldest daughters room was simple and elegant. She had her mother's taste. Coming around the bed near to the bathroom, he saw her laying face down with a shot to the shoulder and head as far as he could tell. Petyr bent down to check her and almost jumped out of his skin _. She was alive!_ Her breathing was shallow and she still had a pulse. Checking her head, Petyr could see that the bullet must have grazed her temple causing quite a bit of blood to run down her face. Joffrey probably assumed he made a clean shot. The gunshot to her shoulder was deep as she lost quite a bit of blood but if he got her to safety, wasn't life-threatening. At his gentle touch, her eyes opened a bit but she still seemed hazy. She didn't try to move at all.

All of a sudden Joffrey entered the room and Petyr gave the girl a firm squeeze as if to tell her to continue playing dead.

"Told you I got her. Right in the head even while she was running." The sick boy laughed heartily.

"Yes, it takes a big man to gun down a defenseless girl," Petyr quipped with distaste.

"Hey, she tried to stab me!"

"Oh, she brought a knife to a gun fight? I think she has larger stones than all three of you." Petyr needed him out of this room and all of them out of the house. Petyr pulled drawers out and emptied them. He knew she didn't have anything of real value in her room but nonetheless, he wanted it to look that way. He grabbed the bag from Joffrey and ordered him downstairs.

The boys were finishing up cleaning and Petyr looked over the house again. He would have it all figured out and when he talked to his paid detective on the police force, they would know how to make the evidence play out. He looked up the stairs and wondered about the daughter. He could finish her off right now and be done with it, but something in his chest told him no.

Putting everything in the bags, Petyr picked up his leather duffle and escorted the boys out of the house. He had very little time to finish up. The rain was still pouring down as they made their way to his car.

"Where are you parked?"

"Outside the gates, further down the road."

Petyr nodded and unlocked his trunk, placing the bags inside while pulling out one more bag filled with sweatpants and t-shirts for three.

"Strip."

"What?!" the boys chimed together, "Are you fucking kidding? It's cold and wet as fuck out here."

"Your clothes are tainted and need to be destroyed. Give them to me." Petyr was done playing around for he was also getting soaked to the bone. "If you get in your car, you will track evidence from the victims and house with you. Do it."

Reluctantly, the two boys began to strip and finally, Joffrey joined. Petyr threw them the bag of clothes and picked up their soiled garments and shoes tossing them into another trash bag. The boys quickly dressed in the rain and Petyr thought for a moment that he should have just sent them away stark naked.

"Now, get the fuck out of here and speak to no one about this. And I mean _no one_. If you want to stay clean of this, then keep your mouths shut. I'll finish up here and ring your mother to tell her it's done," Petyr commanded. The boys rushed out the gate and Petyr looked up to the upstairs window. He needed to move quickly.

Making his way back into Sansa's room, Petyr took a blanket from her bed and laid it on the floor. For a moment he stared at her. What the hell was he doing? He should just finish her off and be done with it. He rolled her onto her back and grazed her cheek. Gods, she was the spitting image of Cat when she was younger. No, she was more beautiful. He couldn't save Cat, but maybe he could save her daughter. Something tugged at his heart, and he knew he couldn't leave her here to die. She was smart enough to play dead. Perhaps he could even use her later on. Petyr knew it was a huge risk, but it could only make the game more interesting, he surmised. It was a calculated risk he was willing to make. The last Stark could be a powerful ally.

Petyr made up his mind as he rolled her onto the soft blanket. She moaned in pain when he picked her up but didn't have the strength to protest or fight back. She had lost too much blood and Petyr needed to get her back to the Mockingbird and see if she could be saved. If not, he could dump her body near the hills and it would look as if she tried to make a run for it during the murders only to die from her injuries.

The car was running in wait, as Petyr opened the door and gently placed her in the backseat lying down. He took one last look at the house and murmured, "Goodbye, Cat."

Petyr got into the driver's seat and texted Cersei.

 _It's done, but it is far from over. Control your boy next time_.

He didn't care how she reacted. He was done cleaning messes for them. And if she threatened him, he had all the evidence in the world to send her son and his friends to prison for life.

"Who are you?" Petyr heard a groggy voice say from the backseat.

 _A friend_?

What was he to her, Petyr wondered. "Don't worry about that now. I will not harm you."

"Where are you taking me?" He could tell she was losing consciousness fast. He needed to get back to the club quickly and call Pycelle.

" _Somewhere safe_."

 

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

 

Petyr entered his club from a secret door that only he knew the passcode to. It was very late, but he still did not want to attract any attention. He knew none of the girls would be back here at this time of night or use the service lift and most likely Olyvar would be going over the profits for the night in the main office on the second floor. Sansa was getting heavy in his arms when he tapped the code that would allow access to the third level which was solely for Petyr's use.  Rarely did anyone enter this floor and never without his presence. Only he had the codes to access this floor and his rooms therein. The old building had two lifts, but this was more private, allowing Petyr to go unnoticed when he wished. When he had the building remodeled, many secret passageways were built to move about without being detected and escape if necessary. Passages crossed private pleasure rooms where all the debauchery took place between whores and clients. Two-way mirrors allowed him to inspect the goings-on and keep tabs on everyone and everything that happened on these premises. Even Olyvar had no knowledge about the passages. Petyr instilled a certain level of trust in the young man to help him run the club, especially while he was away on business. Hidden cameras and microphones were everywhere, and only Petyr knew them all. Knowledge was everything, and he trusted no one.

The door to the third floor opened and Petyr shifted her in his arms and strode down the hallway to the rooms he used as a small apartment when downtown. Pushing the door open into the bedroom, he laid her down on the chaise lounge. Her vitals appeared weak, but she was still alive. The girl had lost a good amount of blood but was a fighter. Petyr picked up his phone calling Pycelle and waited.

_Come on, you old fucker, pick up._

Finally, a tired voice answered, "Baelish… when are you going to ring me at a reasonable hour?"

"I need you now, one of my girls was shot. A wound to her shoulder, blood loss, and a graze to the side of the head…"

"Ugh… _it's only a whore_. I thought it was someone important…" the old voice replied.

"I pay you extremely well, do I not? I don't give a fuck who you think is worthy. It's my business. If you refuse, I'll find a replacement or worse… you won't have any more young girls to spank and call you master. You think I don't keep tabs on all my investments?"

"You wouldn't dare! I'm the private doctor to both the Baratheons and Lannisters, they wouldn't stand for …

"For what? That you indulge every one of your sick fantasies in my club while doped up on morphine? I'm betting they wouldn't let you attend to them after that bit of information leaks out." Petyr threatened and added, "I expect you here in twenty minutes. Do not make me wait."

He disconnected the call and looked at the girl laying on his lounge. Petyr was taking an awful risk bringing her here, and he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with her if she survived. He let the argument die for now and walked to the Picasso on the far wall. Behind the frame, he pressed his thumb to a small, hidden scanner and the wall opened to a secret panic room. He counted out a few thousand pounds for Pycelle when he arrived and looked to his emergency medical supplies. He wasn't a doctor by any means, but Petyr made it his business to know as much as possible in case he ever needed to stitch himself up, or administer medications and so forth. He pulled two IV's, morphine, sterile utensils and bandages on the cart and wheeled it to where the girl.

He pulled the blanket off and examined her shoulder wound. Seeing no exit through the back, Petyr knew the bullet must be extracted. He sat Sansa up and put pressure on the wound. The pain roused her enough to groan loudly. Her eyes opened finally and stared at him, warily. Her damp locks were plastered to her head and didn't look auburn in this light. Petyr hoped Pycelle wouldn't recognize her. If he did, that would be a matter he could attend to later.

The girl's silk nightdress was covered in blood, and it seemed sultry enough to pass for something one of his whores might wear if she were playing coy. The idea was to keep it simple. Sansa was staring at him, and he felt he needed to break the ice somehow.

"You've been shot in the shoulder, and it looks like a bullet grazed the side of your head. Are you injured anywhere else?" Petyr asked with a doctor's indifferent, bedside manner.

She seemed to think it over and then shook her head slowly. Her eyes took in her surroundings, and he could sense her growing fear. "As I said, I'm not going to hurt you," he tried to console her. "Hold this here and keep the pressure. I know it hurts."

Petyr placed her hand on the gauze pressed to her shoulder. She winced and tried to ease her hand away, but he pushed her hand again, telling her to do as he said. When she acquiesced, he started to clean the wound on her head. It didn't look deep, but her hair was matted with blood. She flinched again at the pain and Petyr picked up the morphine and syringe.

Just a small dose to ease her discomfort until Pycelle came, he told himself. She wasn't unconscious, and Pycelle would most likely give her more to extract the bullet anyhow. Petyr carefully measured a small dosage and tapped the syringe, releasing a bit of the powerful medicine. He almost expected her to object or pull away, but when he paused to inject her delicate skin, her eyes gave silent permission.

"A little morphine," he told her as she gave the injection. "I have a doctor coming in just a few minutes."

"Can't you take me to a hospital?" she finally croaked out.

"That depends. Do you want to die? The minute Sansa Stark shows up in the hospital with a bullet wound is when Cersei sends one of her associates to kill you." Petyr explained. "You're safe here. I'm an old friend of your mother. No one will find you here."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Petyr could see the drug was kicking in. "They're all dead… aren't they." It wasn't a question.

Petyr didn't see the point in lying or sugar coating it. "Yes."

To her credit, the girl didn't cry or sob hysterically like he thought someone her age would. Instead, quiet tears ran down her face. She released the pressure from her shoulder as she sunk into the lounge chaise.

Petyr's phone buzzed, and he saw Pycelle was calling to be let into the club's back door. "The doctor is here. I need to let him in." The girl didn't respond, and Petyr wondered if she wanted to live knowing her entire family was dead. He hadn't given it much thought.

He turned her face to look at him. "I'm giving you a choice right now. If you want to live, I'll bring in the doctor. If not, I'll send him away and give you the rest of this morphine. It will be painless and quick. I'm not going to waste my time and money on someone who is only going to off herself after I've gone through the trouble of saving her life."

His tone was clipped and to the point, but he didn't have time to mess around with a silly grieving girl. Petyr waited for her answer and was about to grab the morphine when she finally spoke up.

"Will you help me?" she asked quietly, "Help me kill him?"

He smiled to himself, thinking that she could be a lovely secret weapon if properly utilized. Another way to keep his own hands clean as he played his game. Vengeance could be exciting in the hands of a beautiful young girl. Maybe he could train this little thing. If she had any of Cat's spirit, she could be useful.

"I'm _not_ a charity, regardless of my fondness for your mother." Petyr's grey-green eyes bored into her ocean blues. "I can help you… but… you will work for me, do you understand?" She nodded carefully, but he could see a questioning behind her eyes.

"Things will be done my way and only my way. I will not have you exposing and jeopardizing me to off that idiot boy. I will teach you how to play; however, you will do as I say. Disobey me, and I'll dump you off on Cersei's doorstep myself, understand?"

She was mulling it over as Pycelle rang again. At least the old man was on time. "What will it be?"

She nodded, and Petyr answered the call. "I'm on my way down." He hung up abruptly and looked her over again. "You are one of my girls. Ramsay hurt you and that's all you need to know. Do not talk to the doctor except about your pain and injury. I don't think he'll recognize you, but try to avoid eye contact and speaking with him. Stay here and don't touch anything, or you'll be wasting the doctor's time."

Petyr pulled some of her wet hair over her face where she wasn't injured and adjusted the blanket around her waist. Without a second glance, he left the room with the door locking automatically behind him. When he made his way downstairs and opened the back door for Pycelle, the man had the nerve to look annoyed at waiting.

"I don't know why you're always so sour with me, Pycelle. I pay you better than Cersei ever has." Petyr let him pass and secured the door. They were quiet as they rode the lift and Petyr directed him to his apartments. Allowing the old man inside, Petyr followed and locked the door.

"I've never seen this floor before, Baelish," the old doctor said as he looked around. The girl perked up at his spoken name but quickly recovered when the doctor finally looked in her direction.

"I have a few rooms that are private for special quests, for a hefty fee, I might add. This one isn't being used right now. I needed privacy as to not scare the other girls." Petyr lied effectively, and the old man took it without question.

Pycelle sat down next to Sansa and opened his medical bag. "So, Ramsay has progressed from beating girls to shooting them, has he? Roose should have drowned that little bastard at birth and saved us all the trouble." He checked Sansa's vitals and once satisfied, started preparing the IV and tested her blood type.

After a few minutes, the man smiled. "O Negative. Lucky girl." Petyr was pleasantly surprised and walked back into his safe and retrieved a bag of his own blood type from the refrigerator. Pycelle was so fixed on the girl before him he didn't even notice Petyr had left and returned until the bag was handed to him. "Quite the resourceful chap, aren't you?"

"You never know what these young idiots are going to do nowadays. Best to be prepared in my line of work." Petyr observed as Pycelle prepared and inserted the IV into the girl. It didn't look that complicated. This was something he could possibly do in the future if necessary. He didn't know how much longer he wanted to use Pycelle anyhow. The man was too closely connected to the Lannisters, and frankly, Petyr didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"How much morphine did you give her?" the doctor inquired as he cleaned the wound on her shoulder.

"A minimal dose, just to take the edge off. I didn't want to give the girl too much depending on what you were going to do."

"Girl, I'm going to have to extract that bullet. I'm going to give you something to numb the area and a little more for the pain, alright?" Once the drugs took effect, Pycelle set to work on taking out the bullet. Petyr thought he could have done a faster job by the way the old man's hand shook and prodded her shoulder. Finally, it was done, and he started suturing.

"Stitch her up nicely, Py. I don't want her all scarred. She's one of my better new girls." Petyr set out the money and waited for him to finish.

"Keep it clean, and it should heal nicely. Her head won't need stitches. It looks worse than it is. I gave her an antibiotic and only give her small doses of morphine every four hours or so. You seem to be well supplied. It looks like I'm all done here, anything else, ring me up. Someone will need to watch her for several hours." Pycelle cleaned up and began packing his bag, placing the cash inside.

Petyr helped her lay back on the lounge and then escorted Pycelle out of the building. He didn't appear to recognize her, which was good. Hopefully, the good doctor would keep his mouth shut. The more significant news tomorrow would be the Stark massacre anyhow. Petyr took a few pictures of Sansa in her room before rescuing her and would figure out a way to add in that she was dead as well.

Detective Brune was his trusted man in the police force and knew that faking her death wouldn't be difficult. The rumour would spread the whole family was murdered, and with pictures of Sansa at the scene would sway any detractors. Now all he had to decide if her body disappeared of he found some poor girl to take her place in the morgue. There was no one left out of the Stark family that could identify them positively, and that worked in Petyr's favour. He had already informed Brune of the gruesome scene at the Stark home, so the crime scene investigation would go over more smoothly with his man in charge.

Petyr sent him the pictures and details of her injuries based on what Joffrey told him to make the story fit together. If Lothor needed a body, Petyr supposed he could find a suitable redhead to fit the bill.

He made his way back to his apartments as Sansa was beginning to drift off. He sat down on the lounge and gently woke her, "You should get out of those wet clothes. The bath is through that door, and I have a clean robe you can use for now until I get you some fresh clothes."

Sansa nodded, but when she tried to get up, she almost immediately collapsed. She was far too drugged up now, Petyr thought. He removed the IV connection to put the soft robe on and slide her arms through the sleeves. Once covered, he took a pair of scissors and cut the straps of her silk nightgown. He wrapped the robe around her and slid the silk down until it pooled at her feet. There was no point in exposing her to a stranger, he reasoned kindly. Petyr wasn't completely cold. He carried her to his bed and laid her down. After connecting her IV back, he pulled the covers to her waist and gazed at this lovely creature.

She looked so much like Cat it was unnerving, Petyr mused. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. He had a ton of work to do anyway. He walked to his small kitchenette and brewed a pot of coffee. Mulling over tonight's events, the sadness had begun to dull as something else replaced it. Petyr was a master at turning off his emotions when necessary.

He had one murder to fake, a massacre to cover up and a girl now in his charge. It was lucky he thrived on chaos; Petyr laughed to himself. This kind of work was stressful at times, but in actuality, he really loved it. Petyr loved playing and mainly orchestrating the game, and he could not wait to play his new piece.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  

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 Multiple shots rang out from somewhere. Sansa felt the softness of her bed and the cool silk of her nightgown as she tuned her ears to listen to what was unfolding in her home. She knew something was wrong when she tiptoed into the hallway and saw her sister coming from her room with the gun Robb had bought for her. Arya may be smaller and younger than her, but she was far more ruthless and braver than Sansa ever could have been.

Just then she could see Joffrey and the two brutes he called mates ascending the stairs. Arya put her index finger to her lips, silently telling her older sister to stay quiet. Sansa wasn’t sure who fired the first shot as when ran to her father’s study looking for a weapon herself. All she could find was a letter opener on his desk. It was better than nothing, Sansa thought. She chanced a look into the hallway and saw Arya’s lifeless body slumped against the chest of drawers near the stairs, gun still in her hand. Sansa felt tears sting her eyes, she was always so harsh with her sister, but she loved her, and now Arya was dead. It was all happening so fast. Too fast.

The frightened screams of her two younger brothers and her mother pleading for their lives reverberated from down the hallway. Her mother told them to kill her but let them live. Sansa wondered if she could reach Arya’s gun and two shots rang out stifling the screams of her brothers immediately. Sansa was stunned in fear and disbelief as she heard her mother cry and suddenly silenced with one more shot.

Her father and Robb would never have permitted this to happen. They had to be dead; she felt with utter dismay. Arya was murdered only steps away, leaving Sansa all alone. She didn’t know what to do. Sansa felt paralyzed with only a dull letter opener in her hand against three bloodthirsty boys with guns. Her whole body shook when she tentatively stepped into the hallway to try and make a run for it. Suddenly, Joffrey came out of her parents’ room and stared at her with a sick grin on his face.

“If it isn’t my former future wife…” Joff had his gun lowered as he leisurely walked towards her, as if he saw her at school nstead of killing her family in her home.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he sneered when she remained silent.“Don’t worry; I have no intention of shooting you.” Joffrey’s eyes hungrily spanned Sansa’s body covered in the sheer silk of her nightdress. “After I fuck your brains out, I think I’d like to see your throat cut as my friends take turns while you bleed to death. What do you think?”

Sansa lunged the letter opener at him, and he swatted it from her hand. All she could do was try and run for safety, but as she turned to look at him, she heard the shot ring out before even realizing the pain that seared through her shoulder. The force of it had her falling against the wall as she tried to reach her room in vain.

 _I’m going to die_.

Those words played in her head when she heard him in the doorway of her room, and she could only look at him in terror. That taunting smile was the last thing she saw when she felt the bullet tear at her forehead. She felt the gush of blood run down her face as she sunk to the floor.

 _Play dead_.

Sansa knew she wasn’t dead yet but maybe if she made him believe…

She let herself slump to the floor and ended up face down. Sansa could feel the blood oozing from her shoulder and head onto the floor. If she were lucky, maybe he would think he killed her. Sansa willed herself to breathe shallow and calm down. She didn’t move at all even when he prodded her with his foot. She prayed he wouldn’t turn her over or worse fire another shot at her for good measure.

She could hear the voices of his friends but couldn’t register what they were saying. The two boys were scared, but Joffrey’s arrogance won out. She could hear him calling his mum, and Sansa prayed he would leave the room long enough for her to escape. The next thing she heard stilled her completely. Cersei was sending The Cleaner, Joff said.

 _Oh fuck_. If Cersei was sending him, Sansa was in deep shit. That man didn’t leave a stone un-turned her father used to say. Joff sat on her bed as he talked to his mates for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, the sound of a car turning into the drive had him up and quickly looking out her window.

“Shit, he drives fast. Mum said he wanted us on the stairs waiting…” Joff whined. Just as quickly, they left her room, and Sansa took a shuddering breath. She needed to move, but when she tried to sit up, the loss of blood made her so faint she collapsed right back down. Slowly, she tried dragging herself to her bathroom door. She could lock it from the inside, she reasoned.

Sansa couldn’t see properly with all the blood in her eyes. Every movement of her arm inflicted searing pain in her shoulder. She didn’t get far when she could hear voices in the hallway. Sansa was not going to make it. Even if she did, they’d most likely shoot out the door and kill her anyway. She was going to die here, tonight, on her floor in a pool of blood.

Sansa stilled, as a quiet man entered her room. He didn’t speak, and she assumed it was The Cleaner. In a moment, she would be dead. Unlike Joff, he would make sure if she was alive or not. She couldn’t see him but felt him bend down, and suddenly she couldn’t hold her breath. His gentle fingers found her pulse with ease and immediately flinched as if he touched hot coals. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy. In a moment, Joff’s voice echoed as he entered and reveled about how he killed her. The man firmly squeezed her arm as if telling to stay quiet. He knew she was alive, yet he didn’t kill her or reveal it to Joffrey. Why?

For the first time, his soft yet authoritative voice spoke, “Yes, it takes a big man to gun down a defenseless girl.” It was filled with quiet and controlled anger.

“Hey, she tried to stab me…”

“Oh, she brought a knife to a gunfight? I think she has larger stones than all three of you.” That sarcasm made her wonder if she wasn’t about to die after all. Maybe he would take pity on her.

Sansa could hear them rummage around in her room. She didn’t know what they could have possibly been looking for. She had nothing valuable. After a few minutes, she could still hear their voices as they retreated down the hallway. Sansa didn’t dare move in fear they might return. It was best to stay put and play dead for now. If she were lucky, they would leave, and she could try and escape or hide.

The storm was raging outside her window as she wondered how long she dared to stay here. The minutes seemed like hours when she heard footsteps in the hallway, and Sansa froze in fear. Did he come back to finish the job? Sansa closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. He walked into her room and pulled a blanket off her bed, laying it on the floor next to her, and there was a long pause. The man didn’t speak or move towards her. He just stood there. All at once, gentle hands rolled her onto her back. The pain in her shoulder was too much now forcing out a strangled moan. Still, the man did not speak to her as he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the house.

The heavy rain poured down and soaked her to the skin. The thin blanket did nothing to protect her. She could hear the hum of a vehicle as she was losing consciousness fast. A car door opened but she had no strength to fight back. Wherever this man was taking her, it didn’t matter anymore. Her entire family was dead, and now she was dying too. Sansa would probably die before they reached the destination planned for her.

The door shut, and the car was warm and smelt of cigarette smoke. Soft music played that seemed in time with the percussion of rain that hit the car. The man got into the driver’s seat, and she felt the car put into drive. She lay back on the forgiving leather wanting to know who he was before she died.

“Don’t worry about that now. I won’t harm you.” His voice was as gentle and melodic as the music that played. Was he going to try and save her? She couldn’t understand why the man people called The Cleaner would want to help someone like her. She was no one special.

“Where are you taking me?” She was drifting off and barely comprehended the words he spoke.

 _Somewhere safe_.

Pain echoed through her head and body. With the prick of a needle to her vein, it faded quickly as her mind entered a dense fog.

“You’re safe here. I’m an old friend of your mother. No one will find you here.” That gentle voice warped back and forth like the tide. Fingers prodded and fussed with her wounds.

 _They’re all dead_.

“Yes.”

Sansa couldn’t see him rightly even though she felt how close he was to her. His words slowly drifted in and out. Something about a doctor as he turned her face towards him. Green eyes stared at her or were they grey? The hypodermic needle was in his hand.

“I’m giving you a choice… quick and painless… I’m not going to waste my time…”

She could hear him but at the same time didn’t fully register the meaning. One thing she knew he was asking. Do you want to live or die? It would be easier to die right now. Join her family if there was a hereafter or the other option… Seek vengeance on that son of a bitch that killed them. Maybe this man might help her. He was willing to save her life; it seemed. There was only one way to know, and so she asked him for help.

“I can help you… however, you will work for me… my way…what will it be?”

Sansa didn’t know what she agreed to, but she knew now she didn’t want to die, so she nodded her head. Everything moved in a haze. Something about she was one of his girls, and Ramsay hurt her. One of his girls? What did that mean? The man seemed worried the doctor might recognize her tending to her wounds.

“ _Baelish…_ ”

Where had she heard that name? It was familiar, and Sansa couldn’t place it. Time dragged on slowly as the clink of metal hitting a small bowl from the bullet that was removed from her shoulder, the shaky old hand that stitched her skin back together and the quiet conversation between the two men as if she didn’t even exist.

Before Sansa knew it, the doctor had left, and she was being lifted and placed onto the softest bed in the world. There was no pain, just peace. Maybe she was dead after all. Perhaps death wasn’t as bad as she feared. She was drifting to sleep, and she didn’t have any fear anymore.

Music was playing in the darkness. It was relaxing, and Sansa felt herself wake. Softness and the pleasing scent of sandalwood surrounded her. She tried to move, and swiftly, pain jolted her to consciousness. Sansa wasn’t dead. No, she was very much alive and in pain.

The sound of a cupboard door closing had her eyes begin to open. Slowly Sansa started to focus and could see her left hand with an IV attached to it. Her eyes followed the line to the bags hanging above her. Was she in a hospital? No, the bed was far too comfortable, and it didn’t smell like sickness here. In fact, the bed’s linen was super fine as silk. Her hands caressed the luxurious cream material as her eyes adjusted to the light.

It was a large room and opulent in its décor. Modern but still quite elegant in earthy tones of soothing greens, browns, and black. What looked like very expensive artwork decorated one wall, while another held a large television with a desk beneath it. It wasn’t a tv show or movie that played but various little screens that gave Sansa the impression it was security cameras, but there was no sound except the music that played. It seemed like jazz. It wasn’t a style of music she tended to listen to, although it was relaxing and seemed to fit this room.

Sansa scanned her surroundings and movement drew her eye to what looked like a small kitchen in dark mahogany, stainless steel, and granite. There, a man with dark hair stared at her in silence.

The man was older, perhaps in his forties, she thought. He had a lean and toned build but not a big man. He was of average height, but there was nothing else ordinary about this stranger. He had an aristocratic nose with lightly mussed dark hair had piercing green eyes. Those eyes stared at her without blinking and made her feel every inch naked.

He turned to the stove, and she could see a dusting of grey at his temples that seemed to prove her assumption of his age. He wore a simple grey button-down shirt with the long sleeves rolled up and black slacks. He didn’t speak at all as he tinkered in the kitchen as if it were any typical day to have a gunshot victim in his room.

It all rushed back in one swift moment. Her family, everything she loved was dead and gone. She looked at her bandaged shoulder and didn’t know whether to cry or scream.

 _Shock… yes, it must be shock_.

Sansa felt numb. Tears didn’t well up in her eyes, and she couldn’t feel anything but an empty void in her heart. Why wasn’t Sansa crying? She should be crying, shouldn’t she? There was physical pain from her injuries but only felt hollow inside.

 _I’m not going to waste my time and money on someone who is only going to off herself after I’ve saved her life_.

Sansa stared at the man cooking who gave her no attention.

 _He said he would help me. Help me kill them_.

Maybe that’s why Sansa felt hollow. The man saved her because she wanted to kill those responsible for murdering her family. Perhaps one had to be dead inside to kill, she thought.

 _I will teach you how to play… but you will work for me_.

“Didn’t your mother tell you it is rude to stare?”

His voice jolted her into the present, and Sansa saw he was glaring at her, yet something in his eyes was … _playful?_

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse, and her mouth felt like cotton.

“Don’t _ever_ apologize.”

She was about to apologize again when she stopped herself. What should she say to this man? Should she thank him for saving her? Did he want to talk to her? Suddenly cognizance sunk in and she was acutely aware that she was most likely in his bed, in his home or whatever this place was and he was cooking after saving her from being murdered last…

“What day is it?”

“You’ve been asleep for almost two days. It was probably for the best to let you begin to heal.” His tone was indifferent as if he were a doctor talking to a patient. “There’s a glass of water on the nightstand next to you. If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll make you a bite to eat.”

Whatever he was cooking did smell wonderful making her stomach growl involuntarily. Sansa picked up the glass of water and quenched her thirst. She didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the man and the door. Would he let her leave if she wanted to go?

“By all means, if you’re intent on leaving… go ahead. See how far you get.” A smirk crossed his face as he continued cooking.

Sansa chose her words carefully. “Then… I’m free to go if I want?”

“ _Free?_ ” he chuckled darkly, “I’d say you owe me for saving your life. I paid well for that. It would be a waste to find you dead as soon as you leave here. I hate wasting my time and money.”

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here.” He did that on his own Sansa thought back to that night in her room. Only when he had her on that lounge and offered her life and death, did she choose to live.

The man smiled, but Sansa noted it never seemed to reach his eyes. “True. Had you died, I would have just dumped your body somewhere. It wouldn’t have mattered either way.” He returned to cooking, and her stomach rumbled again. “In fact, it doesn’t matter now for Sansa Stark is dead.”

The man plated the food into two portions. He placed one on a tray with what looked like juice and some bread and brought it to her. He set the bed tray across her lap, and Sansa looked up at him now that he was so close. The man had faint lines on his face, but all in all, he was a good-looking man for someone she guessed was most likely her mother’s age.

He moved to the large flat screen on the wall and changed the view from the security cameras to the satellite. Switching to the news, Sansa saw that the breaking story was the murder of her entire family. As she watched, the newscaster revealed that all members of the family, including her, were dead.

Even though her stomach disagreed, Sansa didn’t feel hungry anymore. The man stood at the counter and tucked into what Sansa saw was a delicious looking omelet. She looked down and didn’t know whether to eat or vomit. On the telly, Sansa and her entire world had died, and yet here she was alive in this lavish room, with food that made her mouth water and a strange man only a few feet away.

An impatient voice traveled from across the space. “Please don’t tell me I have to go to the market and buy a box of sugary cold cereal. I didn’t take you for a child.”

Sansa felt like her father was scolding her. She looked at the man blankly and didn’t know how to process all that had happened. She was alive and indebted to a man she didn’t know except by reputation. He drank from his coffee cup and observed her for the longest time.

The man sighed. “Listen. The sooner you accept that Sansa is dead and that you are alive, the easier this will be. Grieve if you must, but decide very soon what you are going to do. I gave you a choice the other night. You can die, or you can learn from me. As I said, I am not a charity. You will work for me and do things my way. If not, there is the door, my dear. Be sure to go out the back, for I surely don’t need the media to get wind of Sansa Stark’s dead body walking out of my club.”

Club. _Nightclub_. That’s where she recognized the name.

“And who are you?” she asked even though she was sure she knew the answer.

“Between us in private? You may call me Petyr. When I feel you are ready to leave this room… then, I am Mr. Baelish. Never call me by my given name in front of any of my employees or clients.”

 _Petyr Baelish_. He was the owner of the Mockingbird. She had always wanted to go there with friends because it was the place to be. Well, that… and the rumours of it being a brothel and drug haven were all the gossip. Sansa wasn’t a fool. She knew what world in which they lived. She knew what her father and the other Houses did for a living and understood why her father wanted to get them out of the Syndicate.

Selling drugs and guns was a dangerous business. The families were heavily involved in politics, and the Syndicate practically owned everything. She remembered Robb telling Father that it was critical to get out. The Houses tended to marry to each other, keeping ties close. Cersei wanted her son, Joffrey, to marry to keep the Starks in line.

 _Keep your friends close but enemies closer_.

Her father’s refusal to marry her to Joffrey sent shockwaves through the Syndicate. Sansa couldn’t believe she used to fancy Joff once. The Lannisters were insanely wealthy, and he doted on her all the time. Joff was handsome in his own way, but Sansa was such a child then. Only when refused, did she find out how cruel and sadistic he truly was.

Joffrey stalked Sansa at university, harassed her online, turned her friends against her and made her life hell. She had to leave school and come home for safety. Her father had made plans for them to leave Kings Landing, but unfortunately, they didn’t go soon enough. Now they were all dead. Dead because this rotten shit had his ego bruised or perhaps his mother ordered him to do it.

Anger welled up in her and instilled her desire to see them pay. Sansa looked at the man she now knew as Petyr Baelish and wondered if she could trust such a man. She vaguely remembered him saying he was a friend of her mother. Perhaps that was a question for another day. She couldn’t imagine her mother having a friend like him. Owner of a shady nightclub and known to the Syndicate as The Cleaner? Sansa wasn’t quite sure what she was getting herself into.

He did say she could leave. Maybe she could think on it for a couple of days before committing. As he said, give herself time to grieve. Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath wincing at the pain in her shoulder.

“You need to eat if I’m to give you more pain medication.” It wasn’t a threat but more a quiet order.

“And who am I if I’m dead?”

Petyr smiled, and this time, she saw a hint of it in his eyes. If he did indeed have a brothel, she didn’t want to be one of his girls. Whores, prostitutes, playthings for nasty old men… Sansa couldn’t do that. Not in a million years.

“You are… _Alayne_. My new assistant.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

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Sansa wasn’t sure what she had agreed to. The man, Petyr, had left her alone in what she knew now was his apartment to have some private time to figure things out. Soon, he would want a decision from her, and Sansa didn’t have any idea what she was going to do. Before he left, Petyr had called the doctor from the other night and afterward gently removed the IV’s then checked her shoulder and head wounds.

Petyr helped her to stand next to the bed, gauging if she could do it on her own. Sansa felt weak, but she couldn’t deny how nice it was to stand after being bedridden for days on end. Her muscles were sore, and she wanted so much to stretch her arms but didn’t dare considering the fresh wound to her left shoulder.

Stepping back for a moment,  Petyr scanned her body. She still wore the plush… _his plush bathrobe_ but she felt completely naked under his gaze and refused to meet his eyes. He set a password for the television and Sansa assumed he didn’t want her to look at those security feeds. Why would Petyr need so many cameras for one apartment? Sansa watched him pick up his keys, mobile and a leather jacket. He turned at the door and raised his eyebrows, asking if she would be all right alone. What was she going to do, run down the street naked in a bathrobe? The worst Sansa could do is overdose on those pain killers before he returned, but they both knew she wouldn’t.

“I’ll be back shortly. This door will lock automatically as well as this floor if you’re thinking of running, I’m afraid it’s a long drop from the window. Your choice.”

So just like that, he was gone.

Sansa sat on the edge of his bed and held her injured arm. The news continued playing, her stomach was full, and she could feel the effects of the pain medication kicking in. Looking to the bathroom, she slowly shuffled her way across the room, swaying a bit but grateful she didn’t faint or fall. Sansa pressed her hand against the doorframe to steady herself. She wanted a shower if only to let the hot water soothe her aching body.

His bathroom was large and just as lavish. This man had money by the way the apartment’s decor. The bathroom was white marble with hints of grey, chrome fittings, lush plants, and a stack of luxurious towels next to a huge soaking tub and adjacent shower. It was simple but elegant and belonged to a man. She tinkered around the vanity, inspecting his things. An expensive razor lay next to the sink. She could slit her wrists.

 _No, messy and probably a painful way to go_ , she thought.

Mouthwash, toothpaste, shaving cream…. the essentials. There was nothing that indicated a woman stayed here. Sansa couldn’t imagine a woman dating a man like him. What would they talk about, his job, the murders he cleaned up, whores?

Sansa chuckled, and the sound surprised her. She saw her reflection in the mirror over the vanity and couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t the gash on her forehead or the bandage on her shoulder. It was her face. She didn’t recognize it at all. Is this what one looks like when they lose everything they love in the world?

Her hair was dirty and matted down, mascara smeared, and she could still see blood around her ear and neck from her head wound. Sansa looked back to the doorway and peered to see if he had returned. She closed the bathroom door and saw there wasn’t a lock on it. He probably didn’t need a lock if he’s the only one staying here, she assumed.

Well, the worst that could happen is that he would see her naked or try to rape her while she showered. Somehow, Sansa felt he wouldn’t do that to her. She didn’t know why. She knew nothing of this man except for his name and what he did. He saved her for some reason, yet something told her she was safe here… _for now_.

Sansa let the robe fall to the floor and stepped into the marble and glass shower. She appraised his soap and shampoos for they also screamed very posh. At the turn of the handle, the hot water and steam filled the bath. She knew not to wet down her bandaged shoulder, yet the water felt so good. She could die right now and be at peace.

Through the steam and glass, she saw his razor on the vanity. She could do it. Take more pain killers and sit in that tub while her blood ebbed away. Sansa thought on it for some time and finally decided she couldn’t do such a thing. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, she was kept alive.

Tears mixed with the hot water streaming down her face and finally, she cried. Sansa rested her head against the marble and sank to the floor as the water poured over her. She didn’t know how long she sobbed sitting there, but Sansa knew she had to get up for he would probably back soon. Feeling woozy, Sansa sat instead on the marble bench to wash her hair. She needed to pull herself together and figure out what to do now that she was here.

Everything had a light woodsy scent that was quite appealing. Some men wore too much aftershave and cologne, especially boys her age. Petyr’s selections were a lovely subtle scent, and Sansa began to like it more and more when she heard the slam of the main door.

He was back and so soon! How long had she been crying in the shower? Sansa quickly rinsed and turned off the water, searching around for the robe she discarded. There was too much steam in the bathroom from her long shower when she tried to reach for the stack of towels by the tub, afraid to leave the minimal protection of the glass door. Instead, Sansa lost her grip and slipped falling to the floor, yelling out as she hit her injured shoulder.

She heard the door open, and before she could attempt to cover herself, Petyr was draping the oversized towel around her form. Sansa struggled a bit, but he quickly hushed her to calm down. He didn’t touch her inappropriately and even avoided looking at her half-nakedness.

“Put your good arm around my neck,” Petyr huffed in more annoyance than concern.

Sansa consented, as he effortlessly picked her up, bringing her back to the bed. Petyr sat her down on the edge and peeled away the bloody bandage. He swore under his breath and gave her a stern look.

“Next time you want to kill yourself, my razor is on the vanity. Be more practical.” This man, Petyr, definitely liked scolding her as if she were a dimwitted child. The thought immediately evaporated when he touched her shoulder, and Sansa yelped. “ _Fuck_. I need to stitch this.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. She didn’t want him anywhere near her with a needle and thread. He wasn’t a doctor.

“No… wait, couldn’t you call the doctor back?” She could hear the fear in her voice.

“And pay him another thousand to put in a few stitches that your clumsiness yanked out?” The humour left his voice, and he was deadly serious.

Petyr wasn’t going to send for that doctor again. Sansa looked at her shoulder. He was right; she pulled the stitches when she fell. She cursed herself as she watched him walk to the large painting on the wall. It suddenly moved to reveal a secret room, and Sansa sat on the bed in fear and anticipation.

When he reappeared, Petyr wheeled a small cart with an assortment of medical supplies. This man was a one-man arsenal of strange things and talents. He washed his hands and came back to the bed, pulling a chair over to sit in front of her. Petyr put on gloves and began threading the needle, and suddenly Sansa shrank back.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“ _Usually_ , but this is fairly new to me. I’ve darned a sock once; how different can it be?”

Petyr caught her eyes and without missing a beat, smiled. She wasn’t amused and didn’t want him touching her with that needle. He seemed to sense her trepidation and picked up the hypodermic needle instead, measuring some drug.

“Do you trust me with this at least? It will lessen the pain.”

Sansa swallowed and nodded slightly. A sharp prick, and within moments, the pain started to fade. Petyr gave her a look asking to continue, and all she could do was close her eyes. Sansa felt the first two insertions of the needle as he tried to suture the edge of the wound that tore open.

She turned her head away and couldn’t look. Sansa felt the pressure of his hand and the needle, yet thankfully, there was no pain. After a time, she finally chanced a glance, and his hands were deft and sure. She had seen her brothers and Arya stitched up many times, and Petyr seemed to be doing an excellent job. He had beautiful hands with long fingers that seemed to move to a piece of music only he could hear. For a man, that had not done this before, Petyr seemed to be at ease with the task. Perhaps he did know what he was doing and was only intimidating her.

Petyr finished cutting the thread and placed a clean bandage to the wound. Afterward, he sat back and studied her again. Sansa clutched the towel closer to her body and couldn’t quite keep his gaze.

“Is this the kind of trouble you’re going to give me every day?” There was no emotion in his voice. She didn’t know what to expect anymore. Was he Petyr already tired of her and wished he never saved her life? She shook her head and looked at the floor. Gentle fingers tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. “You’re not an invalid schoolgirl. Speak up, please.”

“No.”

“Good.” Petyr’s fingers left her skin as he got up and walked to the counter where several shopping bags waited. “I bought you the basics… _for now_. When you’ve healed, I’ll take you shopping for some proper clothes. You’ll need to look the part.”

Petyr brought over multiple bags and set them on the bed next to her. Without taking anything out, she could see there was, just as he said, the basics. Sansa was happy to see clothes so she could get out of this towel.

“There’s plenty of food in the kitchen. You don’t need any alcohol, so don’t drink it and surely you can find something to entertain yourself… without breaking your pretty neck.” Petyr wheeled the cart back into the secret room and closed it. He picked up his phone and scanned through it.

“Will you live if I go to work?” He wasn’t asking, not really. Sansa only wondered at what he had awaiting him today. “I can’t babysit you for another two days. I have a business to run.”

Sansa didn’t know what to say. This was the strangest situation she had ever found herself in. The reality was, Sansa had nowhere to go even if she did escape this room. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, she was dead along with her family. This man, for whatever his reasons, was helping her.

He was dangerous, she knew, but what other choice did she have? Her only other family was Aunt Lysa, and her mother said she was a mess - addicted to drugs, and God knows what else. Aunt Lysa was just a part of the syndicate as anyone else. She was married to Jon Arryn, who was second in command to Robert Baratheon, Cersei’s late husband. Her mother said Lysa could never keep a secret. If her husband knew Sansa was alive, then Cersei and Joff would soon know as well.

As strange as it was, all Sansa had was this mysterious man who called himself a friend of her mother. Soon, she would have to ask him about that. Her mother nor Aunt Lysa ever mentioned being friends with someone the likes of him.

She told Petyr she would be fine, and he didn’t give her a second glance as he left the room and locked the door behind him. Sansa sighed and pulled her wet hair out of her face. Looking over the numerous bags, she dumped them out one by one on the bed - toiletries, bathrobe, and loose-fitting clothes. With her shoulder, these would be easy and comfortable to wear she thought.

The last two bags had Sansa shocked. The nightgown with matching robe was pale blue and of the finest silk. Sansa was tall, and the fabric almost touched the floor. She looked at the door and wondered if she was entirely alone to dress. Deciding to take the chance since he had practically seen her naked moments before, Sansa pulled the nightgown over her head and let it fall from her body with the damp towel. He didn’t buy something short or lacy and sexy. It was elegant and tasteful.

Sansa would have been fine with a pair of pajamas, but Petyr didn’t look like a man that would buy those. Instead, he bought her what she guessed was very expensive things from an upscale store nearby. Maybe that’s why he was sizing her up before he left the first time. Sansa didn’t know whether to feel slightly flattered in a sick way or scared shitless.

The last bag answered that question. What kind of man buys lingerie for a girl he doesn’t even know let alone have a clue what size to purchase? Morbid curiosity won out as she pulled out the delicate knickers and bra. What unnerved Sansa wasn’t that she knew they were costly lace and silk. What had her stomach in knots is that they were her exact measurements.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

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Petyr took the main lift down to the second-floor office. Olyvar had been hounding him to go over the books and the VIP guest list for the night. Petyr had barely left his apartment the last two days looking after Cat’s girl, Sansa. He had spoken to Cersei at length and assured her the crime scene was clean, and her precious boy was safe. Calls from Jon Arryn had Petyr set up his best private salon so the Houses could meet tomorrow night about the sudden death of Ned and his family.

Brune had taken care of the evidence, and Petyr lucked out when a whore from a Cheapside brothel came up dead from an overdose a few days before the Stark murders and happened to have hair that was close enough in color — not having to kill some poor girl to pose as Sansa’s post mortem double eased his mind. It kept his hands completely clean, and if her imposter were found out, Brune would take the fall. Now he needed to figure out what to do with this beautiful creature he saved.

In all honesty, Petyr wasn’t quite sure why he did it. It would have been simpler to let her die but looking at her struggling so hard to live had Petyr wanting to be her savior that he couldn’t be for Cat. God, she looked so much like her mother; it was frightening. Petyr had to admit after he picked up her naked body in his bathroom and saw her clean face and touched her skin; that Sansa was far more beautiful than her mother ever was.

The clothes and toiletries were all that he intended to buy this afternoon, but he saw the silk nightgown and couldn’t help himself. The saleswoman was helpful in the lingerie as he scanned the delicate pieces. Petyr remembered Sansa, drenched in her blood and wearing that rain-soaked nightgown the night. She had a tall yet slender frame, and the satin did little to hide her ample breasts. It would have been nice to pick out something daring in cut and color, but that would be for another time, he thought wickedly. Instead, he chose simple and non-threatening cream but still fancy enough to visualize on her in a virginal sort of way. Any other man might feel guilty thinking about a vulnerable young girl that needed help like this, but Petyr didn’t care. He wasn’t going to deny that he had a very beautiful woman sleeping in his bed, and if he wanted, he could take her very easily.

Petyr hardened a bit at the thought of tasting her, but what would be more entertaining would not be forcing her to his will but teaching and seducing her. He could take this creation and mold her. She would be a wonderful weapon against Cersei and her son. He could use her to get close to them. Oh, he was thinking up such wicked plans for his new student. Petyr only had to convince her that it was vengeance for her family.

With the Starks gone, other Houses would begin vying for more power. The Starks were the muscle in this town and tended to keep many smaller families in line after Robert died. Jon Arryn was old and wouldn’t live too much longer if Petyr could help it. The Arryns certainly didn’t wield power and fear as the Baratheon’s did. Then there was the Tyrells, who were pathetically greedy. Lastly, leaving the Lannisters, Martells, and the Boltons that posed any real threat. Petyr knew how to deal with their lot and already had plenty of blackmail on many within the Syndicate to keep him out of the fray.

In a fortnight, Oberyn would be in town to make a deal with the Lannisters on the heroine sitting in Petyr’s hidden safe in the basement. The Mockingbird tended to be where secret deals took place, and Petyr was paid handsomely for transportation and the trade of goods, keeping the peace between the Houses. Petyr made his club and himself as well, completely indispensable to the Syndicate. Most of all, Petyr made them a serious amount of money once he became the middleman – even after he took his cut. In return, he gave them entertainment, drugs, and the more than occasional sensuous treat to keep them happy. The irony is that they spent a pretty penny of that wealth right in his club. Ever since starting the Mockingbird, Petyr had made himself insanely rich but kept it under wraps with the Syndicate. He knew how to doctor the books, keep the accounts and fronts intact. They were all numbers in a system he knew how to manipulate. A system that would come crashing down without him.

Petyr looked over the take from the last two nights. It wasn’t great, but when Martell arrived, he would triple his profits in no time. Oberyn was a force, the ultimate party machine. When he was in town, he spread loads of money around, and with that came a young crowd that loved to be near him. He was a bit of rock star and known as a rich playboy. Petyr made arrangements for the club to have a Dorne atmosphere. He knew the kind of music, drinks, drugs, girls, _and_ boys Oberyn liked to play with. He normally didn’t put this much effort into individual VIP’s, but Oberyn proved the huge profit gained from the extra effort and Petyr liked to keep him happy.

Petyr made the adjustments on the accounts and looked over the guests tonight and cursed.

_Lysa_

Olyvar grinned but didn’t dare say a word out loud. The blonde knew not to take the piss on his boss, but even Petyr had to laugh sometimes because he knew damn well he couldn’t do anything about it. He made a promise to Jon Arryn a while back that he’d try to keep his wife entertained. It was a favor he wished he never given. Petyr was only trying to win points with him after Baratheon died. At the time, it was simple to keep her happy with endless supplies of vodka and cocaine, but now she was insufferable.

No wonder Jon pawned her off on him. Petyr had Olyvar make excuses that he was out of town, on a job or just unavailable whenever she was visiting the club. Tonight, he didn’t have an excuse. Petyr needed to keep his promise to assistant to have a day off. Petyr didn’t want to lose him and more importantly, he didn't need someone who knew too much about the club to be on the loose.

Petyr rubbed his face and swore again, " _Fuck._ "

“And with that, I’m outta here,” Olyvar japed. Petyr scowled, but both men knew he wasn’t serious. Petyr thought once or twice about lacing her coke but all in all, she was more of an annoyance than a major problem. Taking care of her made Jon happy and kept Petyr on his good side. The Lannisters were the top of his list, and for the time being, he needed Jon Arryn as an ally.

Petyr scanned over the main security feeds for the club. It was going to be a busy night. The crowd seemed to get younger and younger since he remodeled the main floor and bar. Still, it was only the rich and elite that entered. The Mockingbird wasn’t the place for the average bar-hopper in the city looking for a good time. That group would never be able to afford his prices, Petyr smiled.

He locked the office and strolled down the second floor inspecting the girls’ rooms. It was a Friday night, and surely they would be bow-legged in the morning. Petyr was meticulous about his establishment. Any girl letting herself go, doing too many drugs or trying to work independently was sacked. Petyr had no trouble finding replacements. His brothel was the place to make money, and he paid his girls well to take excellent care of his important clients. No seedy corner hooker worked here. He always referred to the girls as his _ladies_ at the club and his clients. Petyr didn’t want them dressing as they did in Cheapside. His clientele wasn’t looking for that. If they were, that’s what they got in the privacy of this floor for a hefty price.

The club was hopping as Petyr exited the lift to the main floor. He acknowledged his security and looked over the room. It was a mixed crowd of young and middle-aged meaning older men cruising for girls young enough to be their granddaughters. He spotted Margery and her brother Loras on the dance floor, making Petyr grin at the thought of Loras finding out Olyvar wasn’t working tonight. Oh yes, he knew all about the Houses and Syndicate. He knew what made people tick, what they drank, _and_ who they fucked. It was invaluable information as far as he was concerned.

Petyr made his way to the busy bar. He spied Ramsay at the end and made a point to have a chat with his father, Roose. It wasn’t a lie when Petyr told Pycelle that Ramsay had hurt one of his girls. He almost choked her to death while fucking her. The girl was so traumatized that she almost quit. Petyr put her to work cocktailing instead, but she was never the same. He couldn't let his girls become fearful of his clients and certainly didn't want the reputation of having people like Ramsay. The Boltons were a much lesser House trying to gain more power but always struggling to appear formidable in the eyes of the Syndicate.

He lit a cigarette and nodded to his bartender. The man handed him his whiskey and a pint of stout. Petyr tossed back the shot and felt the smokey rye burn his throat. God, he really needed a drink. The dancefloor was packed and had three different stages that patrons could use. All around the room, Petyr had his ladies working the floor dancing, getting people to buy drinks and hopefully taking clients upstairs.

The place was redecorated to appeal to a modern crowd. The front stage had water streaming over a backsplash of backlit glass, and the two side stages had large booths that several people could enter with the water streaming on the inside usually soaking them completely and they loved it. Petyr wanted a sensual setup without being too outdated or boring like every other club in town. There were no pole dancing girls here. He taught his ladies to get them drunk, seduce them, and make sure they spent loads of money before leaving. His gigolos were just as effective, and Olyvar was still one of his most popular not only with the women but men like Loras and Oberyn.

Petyr set his beer down and saw Joffrey with his entourage across the bar. The blonde acknowleged the man that saved his ass recently and tossed back his drink. So the Lannister brat was celebrating, was he? Petyr loathed this kid. He was hot-tempered, arrogant and most of all, half-witted. Joffrey really did believe he was the king of the world and expected everyone to bend a knee. Petyr smiled, knowing this idiot boy would get his comeuppance and vaguely wondered what his lovely redhead was doing upstairs all alone. The pleasant thought ended when the most irritating voice whispered in his ear.

“There you are, you wicked man,” it drawled with an overblown attempt at being provocative.

Petyr closed his eyes and took a deep breath before putting on his mask with a smile. “Lysa, good to see you. Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

He looked her over and tried to hide a grimace. Unfortunately, she took it as an invitation of interest and cozied up to him. God, she smelled like she bathed in her perfume. Lysa was under the massive misconception that not only was she the most desirable woman here but also still twenty years old. The problem being she was more than twice that age and looked older than her years.

It wasn’t that Petyr didn’t find women his age attractive, but he could never understand why they attempted to look and act like they were still teenagers. Lysa was the epitome of delusional rich housewife with nothing better to do. She wore a short and very revealing dress in sky-high stilettos. The plastic surgery couldn’t hide her age. Lysa always wore too much makeup, and had the trashy manicure that made many women look tawdry. She looked every bit the aging mob wife hunting for a young lover.

“I am now that you’re here. You’ve been away for so long. The Syndicate is keeping you busy, no doubt.” Lysa tried to link her arm with his making Petyr back away and signalling his bartender.

“Let me get you a drink. Vodka or tequila tonight?”

“You’re such a bad man. You always know what I like. Surprise me,” she cooed.

Petyr almost asked for strychnine but held his tongue. The sooner he got her loaded, the sooner he could escape. He handed her a double vodka red bull and took a swig from his pint looking for a way out.

“Shame about my sister, isn’t it? I was hoping you’d be here tonight to comfort me. We were all such good friends when we were younger.” He felt her run her hand down the front of his shirt, and the sensation made his skin crawl.

“It was a long time ago, Lysa,” he muttered. She wasn’t letting up, and Petyr had to force himself to stay still and not cause a scene.

“She never cared for you as I did. I knew you fancied her, but I would have done anything for you. I still love you, you know.” Petyr didn’t need this bullshit right now, and he certainly didn’t need it played out in public.

“Let’s go somewhere private, yes?” He gave her his most seductive voice, and it worked like a charm as her eyes lit up.

Petyr guided her through the crowded room to where his private salons were located in the back. Petyr signaled one of his better playboys with a snap of his fingers to follow them discreetly. His security opened the door, and as soon as it was closed, the atmosphere changed dramatically. The loud music of the club was muted, and the softer tones of blues and jazz echoed here with the heavy scent of cigars and scotch.

Some of Petyr’s VIP clients were playing poker and billiards as he walked through the multiple rooms. His ladies were working at keeping them liquored up and giving them the attention they craved from beautiful young girls they could no longer get without money. Petyr was positive; the take would be very good tonight. Most of these men would end up wasted and broke upstairs.

He pulled Lysa into a private salon and closed the door. Immediately she tried to wind her arms around his neck and kiss him. He pulled back making her pout like a child.

“Come on Petyr. You know I can make you feel good.” She ran her hand over his crotch, and he wanted to laugh. There was not enough alcohol and drugs in the world to make him hard right now.

“I brought you here to make _you_ feel good.” Her eyes filled with desire and then confusion when he stopped her hand. “I have gifts for you.”

He knew Lysa was going to be here tonight and he came downstairs fully prepared to deal with her. Petyr pulled out a small case from his jacket pocket and two small pouches; one with heroin and the other, her favorite, cocaine.

“I thought we could use a little pick me up considering this week's sad events.” Petyr stroked her cheek, and she didn’t need convincing. “This is special, just for you…but it’s for later.” He took the pouch of coke and tucked it seductively inside the bodice of her dress, making sure to touch her breast teasingly.

“And _this_ is something new, I know you’ll like immensely. It will turn your senses upside down and make that sweet cunny of yours ache.” Petyr teased her thigh, and she let out a moan that couldn’t have been less sexy. Lysa tried to kiss him again but he pulled away. “No, no, no… not so fast. Let’s get the party started first.”

Petyr portioned the drug into the spoon and flicked his lighter. It fizzed, and he could see Lysa’s anticipation. He knew her too well. She would never turn down primo drugs. He was her main supplier as it was. Extracting the sweet liquid into the hypodermic needle, he saw Lysa tie her upper arm quickly. She wanted it bad. Tapping her skin at the crease of her elbow, he found a good vein and inserted the needle. It didn’t take long, and she was easing back against the sofa moaning his name. Petyr noted her eyes were glazed as he leaned over her. “Are you ready for pleasure?”

“Oh God, Petyr, yesssss…”

He snapped his fingers again, and the door opened quickly and silently. This playboy was into cougars, hence why Petyr chose him – not to mention for his dark hair and similar build. Lysa was so drugged up she wouldn’t know the difference… as usual.

Petyr whispered to his young gigolo, “Get her off. I don’t care how and have security send her home safely.” He fished in his jacket, pulling out his billfold, and giving the man several hundred. Petyr left the room just as quietly and didn’t bother to wait and listen if the man was doing his job. He sure as fuck didn’t want to know.

Walking around the VIP salons, Petyr greeted his guests and made sure they were happy. After a few more drinks, the night was finally over. Lysa was out of his hair, his guests had been taken care of, and after a long day, Petyr was completely spent.

After shutting down, counting the receipts and cash, Petyr paid out his employees and called it a night. Turning off the lights to the second-floor office and locking the door, he made his way to the lift. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep. He normally didn’t drink much when he was working, but tonight he was irritated and had probably a few extra whiskeys than he should have. Petyr could hold his drink, however now he was just tired and couldn’t wait to undress and sleep it off.

The lift opened to the third floor, and he trudged to his apartment door. The room was pitch black but Petyr didn’t even bother turning on the light and began to undress. He threw his jacket on the chair and unbuttoned his shirt. He thought about taking a shower but decided he was too fatigued and decided against it. Removing his shoes, socks, and finally his trousers, he walked to the left side of the bed that he tended to sleep on and pulled down the sheet. After two nights of sleeping on the chaise lounge, as large and comfortable as it was, his soft bed was heaven. Laying on his stomach, he curled his arm under his pillow and in a moment was fast asleep, forgetting completely about the girl he left here only hours ago.

  

 


	6. Chapter 6

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Sansa felt herself slowly wake early in the morning. The pain medication Petyr gave her was more powerful than she expected. She remembered making a sandwich, watching a movie and then nothing. Soft light filtered the room as Sansa shifted a little wincing from the ache in her shoulder. Her eyes squinted and looked around the silent room. The kitchen was just as she left it with only a bottle of sparkling water sitting on the counter. Petyr obviously didn’t come back, and she wondered what he was doing. On second thought, it was probably better if she didn’t know what he was involved in.

She rested her head back down on the pillow and weighed her options. She wasn’t sure how long it would take for her wound to heal enough that Petyr would expect her to start working for him. He said she would be his assistant but assist him in what? Did he want her to help him when he was called to handle problems within the Syndicate, or would she be working in his club?

Either choice presented issues. What did she know about working in a nightclub? Sansa didn’t know how to bartend, and she certainly wasn’t going to whore herself out. Did Petyr intend to teach her how to be a Cleaner like him? Even if he did, fixing problems for the Syndicate didn’t get Sansa any closer to killing Joffrey and his mother. Plus, it would be insane to put herself out there among the people that dealt with her father and ended up murdering him. They would recognize her, wouldn’t they?

Sansa wondered if she should just run. As far as the world was concerned, she was dead. The only person that really knew she was alive was Petyr. Would he kill her or just let her go? Sansa sighed for her options weren’t that great to choose from. If she ran, she would have nothing. No money, no friends, and no identity. What would become of her? She would basically be homeless with no prospects.

If Petyr taught her how to be like him and how to kill, she could at least give her family some kind of justice. Perhaps Sansa could learn skills from him on how to survive and start a new life, whatever it was. He was deep in the Syndicate; surely, he could find a way to give her a new identity. The question was, would he? Even more, why was he helping her? Did Petyr expect something in return?

_I am not a charity_

Sansa sighed. It appeared that this man was her only way out. She certainly didn’t trust him or anybody, but he did save her life and was now currently taking care of her. Maybe she could make it work to her advantage. Sansa tugged the plush comforter to cover her. In the night, she must have been restless for it was bunched up to her side. Suddenly she froze when a leg brushed hers. It was a man’s bare leg!

Her heart was pounding as she slowly leaned up on her elbows and looked to the space beside her. A mess of dark hair and broad shoulders peaked just above the covers facing down. She knew this was his place, his bed – but was she expected to share it with him? In only three days she was saved, seen fully naked, stitched up for the second time, had a strange man buy her lingerie and that same man was now sleeping peacefully next to her. It was too much. Sansa wasn’t going to sleep with him if that’s was the payment he expected.

Petyr grunted and turned his head towards her. His eyes narrowed at the light, and his rough voice finally spoke, “Still alive, I see.”

What the hell did that mean? Did he think she would off herself while he was gone? Sansa wasn’t sure if she was more disappointed or angry with his words. She slid off the bed and started pacing the room, holding her arm.

Petyr propped himself up on one elbow and watched her with amusement. “Clearly, you’re feeling better.”

Sansa stopped and glared at him. This man had no shame. He unabashedly gazed at her body, and she realized she was standing in front of the bright window. Most likely he could see the outline of her naked body under the fine silk he purchased for her. She awkwardly tried to cover herself before seeing the matching robe on the lounge.

Petyr rolled his eyes. “Spare me the theatrics. Raping a woman has never been appealing to me in the slightest. Willing participants are far more exciting.”

“You just crawl into bed with girls you don’t know and fall asleep thinking it’s perfectly all right,” she retorted.

“Lest you have forgotten, this is _my_ bed in my apartment. You could be sleeping in the streets or six feet under right now. But no, you are in one of the safest places in the city, wearing rather expensive designer clothing, saved from certain death and you’re already complaining?” Petyr tutted, “I didn’t touch you nor intend to. I’m not so hard up to assault an injured _girl_.”

“Couldn’t you sleep somewhere else at least?”

“Making demands already are you?” Petyr sat up and studied her. “The door is right there, you can leave at any time. I’ll not make apologies because I wanted to sleep in my own bed for once.”

“I will be your assistant, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

Petyr smiled wickedly, “Sleeping or fucking? There is quite a distinction.”

“Neither!” she said indignantly. How dare he? Did Petyr really think she was as easy as one of his whores?

“Shame. I’m fairly sure fucking would be fantastic,” Petyr quipped standing up in only his black briefs not attempting to cover himself. Sansa tried to avert her eyes, but she already got a good look at him. For someone that could be old enough to be her father, he was fit. Not at all the physique she expected on an older man. He had a lean build. Sansa rightly guessed he wouldn’t be the type to have bulky muscles and yet there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat anywhere on his frame.

Petyr walked past her, heading into the bathroom. She glanced at his back and almost gasped. He had, what seemed to be, several gunshot scars around his right shoulder blade. Someone had tried to kill him. He closed the door and moments later heard the shower running.

Sansa grabbed the clothes and quickly put pants on underneath her nightgown before removing the fine silk to ease her injured arm into the loose-fitting shirt. She slipped on the new sandals and went to the front door. Opening it quietly, Sansa looked back to the bathroom door. She could still hear the water as she stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Nervously, she hurried down the hall trying to open the few doors she saw. They were all were locked.

Around the corner, she saw a lift, running to it. Pressing the button didn’t do anything. There was a keypad next to it, and she sighed. Sansa traveled back the opposite direction and tipped toed past his door to the other end of the hall. There was a lift here too yet this door opened. Once inside and the doors closed, she breathed a sigh of relief. There were four levels as Sansa chose the main floor. She waited, but the car didn’t move. Sansa pressed the button again and swore under her breath. She looked around the panel, and this one looked like it required a keycode or a real key as well. Just then the doors opened revealing Petyr in his bathrobe dangling a key from his fingers.

He smiled knowingly handing her the key. “This will give you access to the main floor and this – ” Petyr handed her a mobile, “is if you change your mind. Keep the key in the lift and leave out the back door. That’s the least you can do for me in saving your life.” Without another word, Petyr turned around and walked back to his apartment as the lift doors closed.

What had just happened? He was letting her go? Sansa held the key in one hand and the mobile in the other. She inserted the key and hesitated for a moment. Turning the key, the car moved downwards and opened to the main floor. Looking around the empty space, Sansa realized she was at the Mockingbird the entire time. Petyr had a small apartment above his club that was protected like a fortress. That explained the numerous cameras he was watching on the television in his room.

Sansa wandered around the room for a moment, taking it all in. This place was huge. It was very modern in décor with abstract blown glass chandeliers in multiple colours, artwork, plants, sculptures in different mediums. She could only imagine what this place looked like lit up for the night.

Marble columns showcased a massive bar with leather circular private booths, plush lounges in vibrant tones. She saw dense mahogany double doors and thought it was the way out, but once inside it was only another section of the club with billiard and card tables and multiple smaller private lounges. This place was a maze as she roamed. Sansa didn’t even know where to go to find the back door, let alone the front one.

There were small black domes on the ceiling in every room that hid security cameras everywhere, and Sansa wondered if he was watching her get lost in his establishment. Finally, a set of doors led to the kitchen and storage areas. Petyr spared no expense in his supplies. She knew expensive liquor and wine when she saw it; cigars, and on the walk-in cooler door a list held items such as oysters, caviar and fine cheeses.

A long hallway stretched past what seemed to be a service lift. Sansa pondered if that was the one that was locked upstairs. A heavily bolted door was just at the end, and she tested it to see if it would open. Above the exit, another camera monitored her as she shoved the heavy metal door open and was blinded by the bright sunshine. The club was so dark that her eyes took a moment to adjust.

It was an empty alley and quite a walk to the next street. Sansa knew somewhat where the club was located in the city. As she stood in the doorway to freedom, she suddenly felt intense fear. As Sansa debated before, she didn’t have anywhere to go, no money and no real friends that wouldn’t rat her out. The mob owned the police, and the Syndicate’s henchmen were everywhere. Petyr’s words echoed in her head.

 _By all means, if you’re intent on leaving… go ahead. See how far you get_.

Sansa held the mobile he gave her in her hand. Scanning it showed only one number was programmed, as it was presumably his. Petyr was betting she would change her mind once she left. Sansa took a deep breath and made a decision. She threw the phone across the alley, watching it shatter against the brick wall. Sansa didn’t need to call Petyr to say she changed her mind. She stared at the camera for a long pause and pulled the door closed. She could only imagine a smug smile as he viewed her determined resolve.

Sansa found her way back to the bar only to see Petyr waiting for her. He didn’t have a satisfied smile she expected from him. His hair was still wet and as he was dressed in a dark shirt and jeans. She sat down on the stool, facing him as he poured himself a drink.

“Rather early isn’t it?”

“It’s only juice. I’m out upstairs. It seems a girl drank it all.” Petyr sipped on the dark red liquid his eyes never leaving her as he peered over the rim of the glass.

Petyr picked up another glass and filled it, sliding it towards her. She fingered the smooth surface watching him intently. His dark blue v-neck shirt was fitted, and she could see a touch of salt and pepper hair from his chest peeking out. He looked less intimating right now and more like any average man on a Saturday morning. His eyes were piercing even in the dim light yet Sansa didn’t break his gaze.

“I will give you the apartment here for now until you’re healed enough to make the change. We can't risk you being seen now, and it really is the safest place for you,” he said.

“Change into what?”

“Into Alayne, of course. I will teach you about the Syndicate, _and the Lannisters,_ and how to manipulate it. If you want to get close enough to Joffrey to kill him, you need to know how to maneuver in this system.”

Petyr’s expression was thoughtful and seemed sincere. He was able to change masks effortlessly. Right now, he was all business as she first saw him that fateful night.

“But I’m already a part of that system. I shouldn't have any trouble...”

“No. _Sansa Stark_ was a part of that system. She is dead. Alayne is nothing and no one. You won’t get one yard near that blonde bastard. Women can have power over men if they know how to use it. You will learn how to use it. You have two things already going for you.”

Sansa fidgeted in her seat and was about to argue with him that she wasn’t going to work as one of his whores.

“Wits and beauty, my dear,” Petyr explained. “Learn how to be mysterious, alluring, and irresistible then you’ll have him crawling to you.”

“You’re going to teach me how to be a whore?” Sansa finally said with disgust at what she had been dreading since he first propositioned her.

Petyr chuckled dryly and took another drink. “No. There’s a difference between fucking for money and seduction. You will learn seduction. You will need to be comfortable with it, or they will see right through you. So much of this game is being able to act and change roles for each person and situation. Make it second nature and convince them.” Petyr smiled. “Men are simpler creatures than you think. Give them a taste and take it away. Don’t be coquettish, for it is overdone, but don’t be brazen either. Men want what they cannot have. You will be what they will kill to possess.”

“And what will you gain from this? What is my payment for your help?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Petyr sensed her fear after the lewd comments he made upstairs. “Don’t worry, I’m all bark and no bite. I have no intention of forcing myself on you. Unfortunately, I have a dark sense of humour at times, and I was a bit… _distracted_ by your beauty earlier.”

Sansa couldn’t help the blush that stained her cheeks. Petyr saw it and smiled again. “Make no mistake, you are a stunning woman. I would have to be blind and dead below the waist, not to notice.”

She didn’t know what to say to that! Sansa knew she wasn’t ugly by any means but to hear an attractive, grown man tell her he desired her and found her beautiful made her stomach flutter involuntarily. Boys gave her empty compliments all the time because they just wanted to fuck her. Maybe that’s all Petyr wanted too, but the way he spoke made her feel like the most desirable woman he had ever seen.

Sansa mulled it over and tried to reason it all out. Wits and beauty could be her weapon for revenge. With a man like Petyr supporting her, she could really make them pay.

“I’ll need to ask one thing of you, though.” His voice cut through her thoughts. Sansa raised her eyebrows and looked him in the eyes. “I will need you to trust me. If I tell you to do something, you do it. If I tell you to let it go, stop, run, be quiet… you will. This is a perilous game we play. Follow my lead and don’t make rash decisions, especially when you are emotional. Do you understand?”

It made sense. Petyr was older and experienced in these matters. Sansa would need to have some trust in him if she was going to survive this game she was considering playing. If she agreed there was no turning back.

“Yes. I ask for one thing as well.”

“I’m intrigued,” he smiled.

“You won’t hurt,” Sansa sighed. She didn’t know how to say this. “Or let him hurt me… or sell me out to… _them_ ,” she stuttered.

“That’s three things,” he chuckled. Sansa looked down, but Petyr reached over the counter and tilted her chin back up. “First, I can’t promise something like that to myself, let alone anyone else. I won’t hurt you nor sell you out. I gain nothing from it. As I said, this game is dangerous, and you take the risk that comes with it. I’ll do my best to keep you as safe as I can.”

Sansa released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay. I’m in.” Sansa felt like she just made a deal with the devil as she picked up the glass of juice, bringing it to her lips.

“Cranberry juice?” she guessed.

“Pomegranate. I think you’ll like it.”

Petyr eyes flashed at her as he finished his drink in one gulp.

  



	7. Chapter 7

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa felt herself slowly wake early in the morning. The pain medication Petyr gave her was more powerful than she expected. She remembered making a sandwich, watching a movie and then nothing. Soft light filtered the room as Sansa shifted a little wincing from the ache in her shoulder. Her eyes squinted and looked around the silent room. The kitchen was just as she left it with only a bottle of sparkling water sitting on the counter. Petyr obviously didn’t come back, and she wondered what he was doing. On second thought, it was probably better if she didn’t know what he was involved in.

She rested her head back down on the pillow and weighed her options. She wasn’t sure how long it would take for her wound to heal enough that Petyr would expect her to start working for him. He said she would be his assistant but assist him in what? Did he want her to help him when he was called to handle problems within the Syndicate, or would she be working in his club?

Either choice presented issues. What did she know about working in a nightclub? Sansa didn’t know how to bartend, and she certainly wasn’t going to whore herself out. Did Petyr intend to teach her how to be a Cleaner like him? Even if he did, fixing problems for the Syndicate didn’t get Sansa any closer to killing Joffrey and his mother. Plus, it would be insane to put herself out there among the people that dealt with her father and ended up murdering him. They would recognize her, wouldn’t they?

Sansa wondered if she should just run. As far as the world was concerned, she was dead. The only person that really knew she was alive was Petyr. Would he kill her or just let her go? Sansa sighed for her options weren’t that great to choose from. If she ran, she would have nothing. No money, no friends, and no identity. What would become of her? She would basically be homeless with no prospects.

If Petyr taught her how to be like him and how to kill, she could at least give her family some kind of justice. Perhaps Sansa could learn skills from him on how to survive and start a new life, whatever it was. He was deep in the Syndicate; surely, he could find a way to give her a new identity. The question was, would he? Even more, why was he helping her? Did Petyr expect something in return?

_I am not a charity_

Sansa sighed. It appeared that this man was her only way out. She certainly didn’t trust him or anybody, but he did save her life and was now currently taking care of her. Maybe she could make it work to her advantage. Sansa tugged the plush comforter to cover her. In the night, she must have been restless for it was bunched up to her side. Suddenly she froze when a leg brushed hers. It was a man’s bare leg!

Her heart was pounding as she slowly leaned up on her elbows and looked to the space beside her. A mess of dark hair and broad shoulders peaked just above the covers facing down. She knew this was his place, his bed – but was she expected to share it with him? In only three days she was saved, seen fully naked, stitched up for the second time, had a strange man buy her lingerie and that same man was now sleeping peacefully next to her. It was too much. Sansa wasn’t going to sleep with him if that’s was the payment he expected.

Petyr grunted and turned his head towards her. His eyes narrowed at the light, and his rough voice finally spoke, “Still alive, I see.”

What the hell did that mean? Did he think she would off herself while he was gone? Sansa wasn’t sure if she was more disappointed or angry with his words. She slid off the bed and started pacing the room, holding her arm.

Petyr propped himself up on one elbow and watched her with amusement. “Clearly, you’re feeling better.”

Sansa stopped and glared at him. This man had no shame. He unabashedly gazed at her body, and she realized she was standing in front of the bright window. Most likely he could see the outline of her naked body under the fine silk he purchased for her. She awkwardly tried to cover herself before seeing the matching robe on the lounge.

Petyr rolled his eyes. “Spare me the theatrics. Raping a woman has never been appealing to me in the slightest. Willing participants are far more exciting.”

“You just crawl into bed with girls you don’t know and fall asleep thinking it’s perfectly all right,” she retorted.

“Lest you have forgotten, this is _my_ bed in my apartment. You could be sleeping in the streets or six feet under right now. But no, you are in one of the safest places in the city, wearing rather expensive designer clothing, saved from certain death and you’re already complaining?” Petyr tutted, “I didn’t touch you nor intend to. I’m not so hard up to assault an injured _girl_.”

“Couldn’t you sleep somewhere else at least?”

“Making demands already are you?” Petyr sat up and studied her. “The door is right there, you can leave at any time. I’ll not make apologies because I wanted to sleep in my own bed for once.”

“I will be your assistant, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

Petyr smiled wickedly, “Sleeping or fucking? There is quite a distinction.”

“Neither!” she said indignantly. How dare he? Did Petyr really think she was as easy as one of his whores?

“Shame. I’m fairly sure fucking would be fantastic,” Petyr quipped standing up in only his black briefs not attempting to cover himself. Sansa tried to avert her eyes, but she already got a good look at him. For someone that could be old enough to be her father, he was fit. Not at all the physique she expected on an older man. He had a lean build. Sansa rightly guessed he wouldn’t be the type to have bulky muscles and yet there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat anywhere on his frame.

Petyr walked past her, heading into the bathroom. She glanced at his back and almost gasped. He had, what seemed to be, several gunshot scars around his right shoulder blade. Someone had tried to kill him. He closed the door and moments later heard the shower running.

Sansa grabbed the clothes and quickly put pants on underneath her nightgown before removing the fine silk to ease her injured arm into the loose-fitting shirt. She slipped on the new sandals and went to the front door. Opening it quietly, Sansa looked back to the bathroom door. She could still hear the water as she stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Nervously, she hurried down the hall trying to open the few doors she saw. They were all were locked.

Around the corner, she saw a lift, running to it. Pressing the button didn’t do anything. There was a keypad next to it, and she sighed. Sansa traveled back the opposite direction and tipped toed past his door to the other end of the hall. There was a lift here too yet this door opened. Once inside and the doors closed, she breathed a sigh of relief. There were four levels as Sansa chose the main floor. She waited, but the car didn’t move. Sansa pressed the button again and swore under her breath. She looked around the panel, and this one looked like it required a keycode or a real key as well. Just then the doors opened revealing Petyr in his bathrobe dangling a key from his fingers.

He smiled knowingly handing her the key. “This will give you access to the main floor and this – ” Petyr handed her a mobile, “is if you change your mind. Keep the key in the lift and leave out the back door. That’s the least you can do for me in saving your life.” Without another word, Petyr turned around and walked back to his apartment as the lift doors closed.

What had just happened? He was letting her go? Sansa held the key in one hand and the mobile in the other. She inserted the key and hesitated for a moment. Turning the key, the car moved downwards and opened to the main floor. Looking around the empty space, Sansa realized she was at the Mockingbird the entire time. Petyr had a small apartment above his club that was protected like a fortress. That explained the numerous cameras he was watching on the television in his room.

Sansa wandered around the room for a moment, taking it all in. This place was huge. It was very modern in décor with abstract blown glass chandeliers in multiple colours, artwork, plants, sculptures in different mediums. She could only imagine what this place looked like lit up for the night.

Marble columns showcased a massive bar with leather circular private booths, plush lounges in vibrant tones. She saw dense mahogany double doors and thought it was the way out, but once inside it was only another section of the club with billiard and card tables and multiple smaller private lounges. This place was a maze as she roamed. Sansa didn’t even know where to go to find the back door, let alone the front one.

There were small black domes on the ceiling in every room that hid security cameras everywhere, and Sansa wondered if he was watching her get lost in his establishment. Finally, a set of doors led to the kitchen and storage areas. Petyr spared no expense in his supplies. She knew expensive liquor and wine when she saw it; cigars, and on the walk-in cooler door a list held items such as oysters, caviar and fine cheeses.

A long hallway stretched past what seemed to be a service lift. Sansa pondered if that was the one that was locked upstairs. A heavily bolted door was just at the end, and she tested it to see if it would open. Above the exit, another camera monitored her as she shoved the heavy metal door open and was blinded by the bright sunshine. The club was so dark that her eyes took a moment to adjust.

It was an empty alley and quite a walk to the next street. Sansa knew somewhat where the club was located in the city. As she stood in the doorway to freedom, she suddenly felt intense fear. As Sansa debated before, she didn’t have anywhere to go, no money and no real friends that wouldn’t rat her out. The mob owned the police, and the Syndicate’s henchmen were everywhere. Petyr’s words echoed in her head.

 _By all means, if you’re intent on leaving… go ahead. See how far you get_.

Sansa held the mobile he gave her in her hand. Scanning it showed only one number was programmed, as it was presumably his. Petyr was betting she would change her mind once she left. Sansa took a deep breath and made a decision. She threw the phone across the alley, watching it shatter against the brick wall. Sansa didn’t need to call Petyr to say she changed her mind. She stared at the camera for a long pause and pulled the door closed. She could only imagine a smug smile as he viewed her determined resolve.

Sansa found her way back to the bar only to see Petyr waiting for her. He didn’t have a satisfied smile she expected from him. His hair was still wet and as he was dressed in a dark shirt and jeans. She sat down on the stool, facing him as he poured himself a drink.

“Rather early isn’t it?”

“It’s only juice. I’m out upstairs. It seems a girl drank it all.” Petyr sipped on the dark red liquid his eyes never leaving her as he peered over the rim of the glass.

Petyr picked up another glass and filled it, sliding it towards her. She fingered the smooth surface watching him intently. His dark blue v-neck shirt was fitted, and she could see a touch of salt and pepper hair from his chest peeking out. He looked less intimating right now and more like any average man on a Saturday morning. His eyes were piercing even in the dim light yet Sansa didn’t break his gaze.

“I will give you the apartment here for now until you’re healed enough to make the change. We can't risk you being seen now, and it really is the safest place for you,” he said.

“Change into what?”

“Into Alayne, of course. I will teach you about the Syndicate, _and the Lannisters,_ and how to manipulate it. If you want to get close enough to Joffrey to kill him, you need to know how to maneuver in this system.”

Petyr’s expression was thoughtful and seemed sincere. He was able to change masks effortlessly. Right now, he was all business as she first saw him that fateful night.

“But I’m already a part of that system. I shouldn't have any trouble...”

“No. _Sansa Stark_ was a part of that system. She is dead. Alayne is nothing and no one. You won’t get one yard near that blonde bastard. Women can have power over men if they know how to use it. You will learn how to use it. You have two things already going for you.”

Sansa fidgeted in her seat and was about to argue with him that she wasn’t going to work as one of his whores.

“Wits and beauty, my dear,” Petyr explained. “Learn how to be mysterious, alluring, and irresistible then you’ll have him crawling to you.”

“You’re going to teach me how to be a whore?” Sansa finally said with disgust at what she had been dreading since he first propositioned her.

Petyr chuckled dryly and took another drink. “No. There’s a difference between fucking for money and seduction. You will learn seduction. You will need to be comfortable with it, or they will see right through you. So much of this game is being able to act and change roles for each person and situation. Make it second nature and convince them.” Petyr smiled. “Men are simpler creatures than you think. Give them a taste and take it away. Don’t be coquettish, for it is overdone, but don’t be brazen either. Men want what they cannot have. You will be what they will kill to possess.”

“And what will you gain from this? What is my payment for your help?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Petyr sensed her fear after the lewd comments he made upstairs. “Don’t worry, I’m all bark and no bite. I have no intention of forcing myself on you. Unfortunately, I have a dark sense of humour at times, and I was a bit… _distracted_ by your beauty earlier.”

Sansa couldn’t help the blush that stained her cheeks. Petyr saw it and smiled again. “Make no mistake, you are a stunning woman. I would have to be blind and dead below the waist, not to notice.”

She didn’t know what to say to that! Sansa knew she wasn’t ugly by any means but to hear an attractive, grown man tell her he desired her and found her beautiful made her stomach flutter involuntarily. Boys gave her empty compliments all the time because they just wanted to fuck her. Maybe that’s all Petyr wanted too, but the way he spoke made her feel like the most desirable woman he had ever seen.

Sansa mulled it over and tried to reason it all out. Wits and beauty could be her weapon for revenge. With a man like Petyr supporting her, she could really make them pay.

“I’ll need to ask one thing of you, though.” His voice cut through her thoughts. Sansa raised her eyebrows and looked him in the eyes. “I will need you to trust me. If I tell you to do something, you do it. If I tell you to let it go, stop, run, be quiet… you will. This is a perilous game we play. Follow my lead and don’t make rash decisions, especially when you are emotional. Do you understand?”

It made sense. Petyr was older and experienced in these matters. Sansa would need to have some trust in him if she was going to survive this game she was considering playing. If she agreed there was no turning back.

“Yes. I ask for one thing as well.”

“I’m intrigued,” he smiled.

“You won’t hurt,” Sansa sighed. She didn’t know how to say this. “Or let him hurt me… or sell me out to… _them_ ,” she stuttered.

“That’s three things,” he chuckled. Sansa looked down, but Petyr reached over the counter and tilted her chin back up. “First, I can’t promise something like that to myself, let alone anyone else. I won’t hurt you nor sell you out. I gain nothing from it. As I said, this game is dangerous, and you take the risk that comes with it. I’ll do my best to keep you as safe as I can.”

Sansa released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay. I’m in.” Sansa felt like she just made a deal with the devil as she picked up the glass of juice, bringing it to her lips.

“Cranberry juice?” she guessed.

“Pomegranate. I think you’ll like it.”

Petyr eyes flashed at her as he finished his drink in one gulp.

  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my most fav chapters to write. I love manipulative Petyr so much.

 

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa heard a knock on the door, and it surprised her when Petyr was waiting on the other side with a couple of paper grocery bags in his arms. He didn’t just enter as he had before. Now, true to his word, he was treating this place as hers and giving her privacy and respect. She let him in and watched him set the bags down on the counter.

It had been over a week since Sansa accepted Petyr’s offer and had barely seen him during that time. After taking her back upstairs that morning, he called the doctor asking about her wound and anything else she would required to tend it on her own. Petyr came back that afternoon with a sling for her arm and groceries. He did say he was going to be busy for a few days and asked if there was anything she needed.

Petyr instructed her not to leave the room or enter the club again until he allowed it. He left her a brand new mobile again programmed with his number if she had to reach him. When Sansa asked him what she was supposed to do while he was gone, his only reply was –  

“Mend yourself. That’s your job right now. You’re no good to me or yourself like this.” With a smile he left her alone in his apartment.

It wasn’t so bad the first few days, Sansa was still in pain and rest was probably the best thing for her. She kept her arm immobile hoping the wound would heal faster. Petyr had said the doctor thought she wouldn’t have any lasting problems and she could fully recover in a few months. Although, in a couple weeks, with proper care, she could return to normal duties. Whatever that meant.

Sansa was fortunate in the fact that it was a clean shot and didn’t shatter any bones or nick an artery or lung. Joffrey was at the end of the hallway when he pulled the trigger and Petyr told her that the smaller caliber bullet plus the distance was a blessing. It created a smaller wound and easier to repair. Joff really could have blown her shoulder to pieces if he were closer. Yes, Sansa was lucky.

Cleaning it one morning and realized she would end up with a good scar. Petyr gave Sansa antibiotics, pain medication and a tray of medical supplies to keep the wound clean. The gash on her head wasn’t as bad as she thought. It was healing fast and didn’t look like it would scar much. At least she hoped it wouldn’t as a touch of vanity won out.

Days blended together for all she had was a television, a few books in his apartment and food to keep her company. Petyr didn’t have a phone here and Sansa assumed he only used his mobile. The computer on his desk was mostly password protected including the Internet. There were a few boring games that all software tended to have installed. She didn’t like chess and so solitaire became a pastime and the irony made her laugh.

On a few occasions Sansa was tempted to call him. She didn’t need anything but she was bored and lonely and wondered what he was doing. She desperately wanted someone to talk to. That morning in the bar, she began to like Petyr a little. He wasn’t the man that was half naked joking about sex while looking at her like a hungry animal. Sansa didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about how she thought, even for the tiniest unguarded moment, that he was attractive.

In fact, Sansa had trouble trying not to think about him at all in her loneliness but she couldn’t help it. Petyr was mysterious, dangerous, and attractive and all those things the movies tell you are a wrong and should run away from. Sansa admitted she had watched too many movies in that week of boredom. Those villains and thugs were usually ugly, dirty, mean and uncouth. She had heard about The Cleaner the Syndicate used to fix their problems and Sansa never would have pictured a man like Petyr.

She expected someone to look the complete opposite. Petyr was older, yes, but she had to admit he was a nice-looking man. Not gorgeous like GQ models or some famous celebrities. He was handsome in his own way and Sansa was curious as to what he looked like when he was her age. If Petyr really did know her mother, would she have found him alluring back then?

Sansa knew she shouldn’t be having such thoughts but he was an enigma, a puzzle she was dying to solve. Her mother’s voice tended to ring in her head when Sansa was crushing on a questionable boy or on the verge of getting into trouble.

_Curiosity killed the cat._

What the hell did that even mean anyway? Curiosity was a good thing, she thought. Sansa used to fight with her mother all the time about what was appropriate behavior. She didn’t want Sansa to fall in with the wrong crowd, but to be smart and take care of herself. Sansa always felt like her mother was trying to shelter her from the world and not experience anything for herself. Arya seemed to have it easier or that her mother just gave up at some point. Arya was far more willful and strong than Sansa and she felt that her younger sister was her father’s favourite anyway. She got away with a lot more and Sansa always felt like she had to be the good daughter.

It didn’t matter anymore. They were all dead. So many times this week Sansa cried alone. There was no one to tell her to do what was right; no one to scold her, love her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Now, all she had in the world was a drugged up aunt who didn’t give two shits about her and a dangerous man that –

God, what was Sansa going to do with him? Part of her wanted to stay in bed forever and wallow in grief but another part wanted to be like him. Sansa wanted to be part of that dark and exciting world. She wanted to be desired, feared – and be without regrets and emotion. If Petyr could do it, so could she.

So what if he was a man. A woman could be just as dangerous and even more so. Sansa was fit, smart and if she learned from him, she could really be independent and defend herself. Even without an identity, if she learned his tricks, she could find a way to live. Sansa didn’t even know how she could return to a normal life after this.

The Lannisters wanted her family dead and if they knew she was alive, they would most likely kill her too. Her family was one of the last voices of reason in the Syndicate after Robert Baratheon died. With Cersei trying to take control, it was a free for all it now. Sansa understood why her father wanted out. She only wished that they could have escaped out of Kings Landing sooner. There was no going back. Sansa wasn’t a college girl anymore looking forward to a good life with perhaps a nice husband and family of her own one day. No, she was alone and needed to protect herself now.

The last few days she kept a simple routine. A little exercise, made the bed, washed her clothes and the sheets in the in a utility room down the hall, cooked, read or watched the telly until she fell asleep. The fourth floor was locked again and Sansa wondered why there weren’t any stairs in case the lift didn’t work. Didn’t all buildings have emergency stairs? Sansa felt like a prisoner but not for the same reasons as before. Now, she was just stir crazy from confinement and wanted another warm body to talk to or just take a walk in a park, anything to get out of this room.

Sansa knew this apartment inside out now. She studied his painting admiring the artwork and curious to what else lay in the room behind it. A few suits were still in his wardrobe along with pressed dress shirts, silk ties, and even Italian leather shoes. Sansa loved fashion and she knew what he must have paid for these tailored clothes. She looked at some of the tags. Armani seemed to be his favourite, but she could see a little Prada and even Burberry in his wardrobe.

Catching a light scent on a few jackets told Sansa that Petyr had excellent taste in cologne as well. He must be well off if he could afford this much luxury. The Syndicate paid him well to do his job it appeared or the nightclub was extremely profitable. She remembered the expensive alcohol and food in the kitchens downstairs and her stomach rumbled. The apartment kitchen was starting to grow bare and she was beginning to wonder if Petyr forgot about her when suddenly he knocked on the door. She was genuinely happy to see him not only for supplies but finally for some companionship.

Sansa watched Petyr unpack the fresh fruit and vegetables. He didn’t speak to her as he quietly put things away. She had been trying to exercise and gently work her arm and shoulder a little before his surprise arrival. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was a bit sweaty. Sansa walked to the bathroom to freshen up and could feel his eyes on her, she smiled to herself.

Whatever else Petyr may be, he was also a man. She didn’t know how much of that she could use to her advantage but he clearly found her attractive. Sansa splashed cool water on her face and neck and let it drizzle down her chest. She very lightly patted her eyes with a towel but left the rest of her skin beaded with water and her shirt lightly damp. Sansa smiled in the mirror and left the bathroom.

Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed her sling and gently put her left arm in it looping it around her neck. Sansa sat on the barstool and watched him as she plucked a cold bottle of sparkling water from his hand that he was about to place in the fridge. She waited to see if he would take notice of her. It was a trick she and her friends used at the gym when they wanted to boys to lust after them. Not exactly a wet t-shirt contest, but glistening skin usually worked well.

Petyr took his time and paid her no attention. Sansa was about to give up when he threw a tea towel at her.

“You missed a spot.” He didn’t look at her but she could see a hint of a smile as he finished putting groceries away. “Is that what I have to work with?”

“I’m sorry?”

“This pathetic game that girls play thinking they’re being seductive.” Sansa was grateful Petyr turned his back to her because she never would have been able to hide the mortification on her face. “Please tell me you have something better up your sleeve. If you flip your hair I’m walking out the door.”

When Petyr turned around Sansa tried to appear nonchalant. She had been caught and she knew it and couldn’t look at him. After an awkward silence, a warm masculine laugh filled the room.

“Lighten up. No one is a born a femme fatale.”

It didn’t make Sansa feel any better. What did she think she was doing trying to play with him like any dumb school boy? Sansa patted herself dry and avoided his gaze. Petyr walked around the counter to come face to face with her. His long fingers gently pulled back the bandage inspecting the wound.

“It looks to be healing. How do you feel?”

“Better. It still hurts but I’m trying to move my arm more each day. How long before the stitches come out?”

Sansa watched those soft fingers touch around her shoulder. Petyr was so close that she could smell the same cologne that was on his suit in the wardrobe. God, he really smelled good. He pulled back and she saw his face was rough with a few days growth giving him a bit of a rugged appeal.

“Should be soon. I’ll call the doctor today.” Petyr pulled out his phone and took a picture of her shoulder and Sansa assumed he was sending it to the doctor in question. “You’re still taking all the medications I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have to go to the office. Anything you need?” Petyr walked to the door and Sansa grabbed his arm.

“What? You just got here and you’re leaving? Petyr I’m going mad in this room by myself. You can’t just keep me locked up all the time.”

“I’m only going to be in the office one floor down.” Petyr sighed at the frustrated look on her face. “All right, once I’m done with the books, I’ll make dinner and we’ll talk. Will that do?”

Sansa nodded and let him go. Petyr checked his watch before opening the door. “I’ll return around eight. Anything in particular you would like for dinner?”

“I’m okay with anything.” Petyr turned and smiled mischievously. “Within reason. Please don’t serve me a live octopus or something like that.”

He chuckled, “And just like that, you’ve ruined my night.”

Petyr closed the door and Sansa couldn’t help but smile. He could be very funny and charming if he wanted. Sansa thought that charm most likely got him a long way. He could probably sweet talk a snake.

 

* * *

 

 

The hours passed slowly as Sansa continued to look at the clock on her phone next to the bed. She cleaned up and took some care in looking like a girl that wasn’t a victim or one that had been hanging out in her nightgown all week. The apartment was spotless. Sansa didn’t want him to think she didn’t take care of his things. She set the table simply not sure what he wanted. This wasn’t a date, but a business dinner. Going back to the bathroom, Sansa glanced in the mirror. She wished she had some makeup. The things Petyr bought were just basic needs. It’s not like she had anyone to look nice for but now that she was getting better, however, she wanted him to stay interested in her.

Before, Sansa was a poor girl he saved and now she needed to be a woman he wanted to work along side him. Sansa felt like tonight was more of an interview even though she technically accepted his offer over a week ago. She hadn’t seen him since then and wanted to make sure he remembered his promise to help her. Sansa was worried he might change his mind after he brought her groceries and almost immediately wanted to leave. She made a huge mistake in trying to flirt and it backfired.

Now Sansa needed to play it straight with him. Petyr seemed to have a knack for reading people and Sansa felt she would have a hard time lying to him. It was best to be honest with him and let him decide what she needed to learn. Clearly trying to fake it earlier today made her look like an idiot.

A knock was heard on the door and Sansa took a deep breath. Was she really anticipating him this much? She opened the door and Petyr was still dressed as he was this afternoon in a dark grey dress shirt and black slacks. He had a simple style but it looked good on him. He held a tray of ingredients presumably from the kitchen downstairs and walked to the counter setting it down.

“I’m starving, how about you?”

Sansa smiled and watched him set to work. Petyr was at home in the kitchen. She didn’t expect that. She inspected the tray and found steak filets, asparagus, mushrooms, baguette, some kind of pasta, fresh herbs and cheeses and strawberries.

“In the cupboard under the counter there’s a lovely Barolo.”

Petyr was busy getting spices and cooking apparel as he spoke. Sansa looked under the counter and indeed there was a wine fridge. She hadn’t noticed it before. There were several bottles of wine, cognac and spirits. Sansa could have gotten roaring drunk several times over with this stash. Sansa pulled out one bottle after the other and found what she thought he was asking for.

In the meantime, Petyr had turned on some music and the entire apartment changed from cold to warm and inviting as if Sansa was visiting a friend’s home. Sansa recognized a song from The Rolling Stones and smiled, placing the bottle on the counter.

“Bruno Giacosa?” Sansa hoped she pronounced it correctly.

“La Rocche del Falletto,” Petyr replied in Italian. “Do you know how to open it?”

Sansa considered faking it, but knew he’d see right through her.

“No.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear you’ve chosen to be honest.”

Yeah, lying to him would not be easy. Sansa set the wine on the counter and saw the wine glasses hanging from under another cupboard by the sink. She knew at least what glass to use and set one down by the bottle.

Petyr turned around with a chef knife and cutting board. He looked at the single glass with a questioning. “You don’t drink?”

“You said I wasn’t allowed.”

A smile spread across his face, “Good girl. You’re learning. I think you’re safe enough for at least one glass unless you’ve taken pain medication. When was the last dose?”

“Three or four hours ago.” So, he wasn’t trying to get her drunk at least.

“Do you like wine?” Petyr began seasoning the filets and mincing the herbs. He talked as if they were normal people having a normal everyday conversation.

“I drank champagne and some white wine before but really haven’t had many reds.” Sansa inspected the bottle and wondered if she would like it. Petyr handed her a wine key.

“Cut around the lip… here… and remove the foil.” He pointed to the top of the neck of the bottle. Sansa turned the key in her hand and found the little blade. It looked like a pocket knife, she thought. She did as he instructed and pulled off a small round disc of black and gold foil. Petyr was finished with the herbs and placed the meat on the center grill of the gas stove. “Insert the screw and keep it straight.”

She screwed it down into the cork and was about to try and pull it out when he stopped her. “You’ll break the cork that way. Screw it down just a little more and angle the handle with the lip of the bottle.” Sansa pulled the metal edge out that he pointed to and she figured it out. The cork gave a loud pop and she was about pour him a glass when he stopped her again.

“Let it breathe for a minute and help me.” He handed her the knife and a handful of mushrooms. “Slice those for me. Try not to take off those lovely fingers of yours.”

Sansa didn’t want him to see her smile and tried to hide it. He poured a little wine into his glass and inhaled, furrowing his brows in thought. Apparently, it wasn’t ready to drink for he poured another glass and set them both aside. Petyr returned to the stove turning the filets and she could see he was browning a bit of butter in the skillet.

He threw in the strange looking pasta and herbs and tossed it like a pro a few times coating the mixture. Petyr could have been a chef by the way he handled himself. Even more enlightening, Sansa was amazed at how comfortable she felt with him right now. She actually was enjoying herself and they were only cooking. They hadn’t talked about business at all or anything of the sort. They were just relaxing in each other’s company. She gazed at him and she didn’t notice their age difference. She felt like she knew him for years.

She finished the mushrooms and he flashed her a smile that made her stomach flutter again. God, suddenly this change of demeanor had made him rather handsome right now and Sansa chided herself for being attracted to him. Everything smelled fantastic and she could almost forget who and what he was. He was sautéing the mushrooms and she saw him grab the bottle of wine and toss an ounce or two in the pan. Her stomach growled loudly and they both laughed.

“Do me a favor? Hand me those two plates, please.”

Sansa picked up the china and walked over to the stove. Petyr plated the pasta with asparagus and the filet while spooning the mushrooms and sauce over the steak. Damn, her mouth actually watered. It wasn’t as if she was starving this past week. He stocked her with plenty of good food but she was no great cook and she doubted she could have had a better meal in the best restaurant in town.

Taking both plates and setting them at the table, Sansa watched as Petyr followed her with the wine and two glasses. Before she moved to sit, Petyr had pulled her chair out for her.

This couldn’t be the same man, it just couldn’t. She sat down and he came behind her to scoot her chair in. Suddenly she gasped because she felt his fingers at the back of her neck. He was unbuckling the neck of her sling and gently eased her arm out of it.

“Rather difficult to eat with this on, don’t you think?” His voice was sultry but he didn’t attempt to touch her in any other way.

Sansa’s heart was pounding as Petyr sat down in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. The music he chose sounded like blues from the 60’s or 70’s. It wasn’t romantic or the jazz she remembered in his car, but it was pleasing to the ear and strangely matched the mood in the room. Sansa like the song that was playing right now. The man sang about a girl named, Layla.

“It's Eric Clapton, if you're wondering. A bit before your time," he smiled, lifting his glass. "To a new and _fruitful_ partnership.”

Sansa picked up her own glass and heard the clink of the crystal watching him take a drink. She sipped her own and it was bold in her mouth. She could see Petyr studying her.

“What do you taste?”

She sipped again and this time focused on the flavours. “Plums, spice and…” She couldn’t quite place it. The wine was dry but somehow velvety.

“Chocolate, wouldn’t you agree?” he offered.

Yes, that was it. Strange. Chocolate wasn’t something Sansa thought she would describe in wine. At the same time, she wouldn’t describe Petyr Baelish as the man that sat before her now.

“Do you like it?”

It was peculiar the way he looked at her. Petyr wasn’t leering or openly flirting with her like the guys she used to know. He was attracted to her and didn’t hide it, but he also wasn’t trying to seduce her either. They were just having dinner and he seemed to be only introducing her to new things. Sansa found it provocative as hell. His body language, tone of voice and the way he spoke to her like a woman and not some young college girl.

“I’m not sure. It’s... quite powerful.”

“Very smart. It’s best to be wary of powerful things.”

Sansa didn’t know what to make of that. Petyr wasn’t talking about just the wine. She placed her napkin on her lap and forked a bit of the pasta. It was delicious but it wasn’t pasta. She swallowed and innocently asked what it was.

“Gnocchi with browned butter and sage.” Petyr cut into his filet. “Think of it as a potato dumpling.”

“It’s very good. I’ve never had it before.” She took a bite of asparagus and for the life of her, didn’t know what to talk about.

“It’s good to try new things.” He sipped his wine and kept watching her. “It keeps us alive in more ways than one.”

Her filet mignon was cooked perfectly, and Sansa was dying over how good the dinner was. Petyr was an amazing cook. She almost had to stop herself from devouring it like an animal. He kept the conversation light and easy making her feel extremely comfortable. Sansa wasn’t sure if it was the wine or him or perhaps both.

Petyr asked her about her childhood and oddly enough she felt at ease discussing it with him. They didn’t talk about the murders though it was ever present on both their minds. He wanted to know her interests and if she had any talents or hobbies. Sansa’s mind was telling her to shut up; she was opening up to him and saying too much.

Petyr appeared to be pleased that she liked classical music, ballet and the opera. He was sophisticated in his tastes and it gave her the impression that they would most likely get on well together as boss and assistant. Petyr was well-read and Sansa was only beginning to understand how intelligent he was. Books she had started at Uni, he was well versed in. He knew everything it seemed about politics and business. Petyr wasn't stuck in the past either and was savvy about the modern rock bands Sansa tended to like and it surprised her.

Sansa was always frustrated with boys her age because all they cared about was sex, cars and video games. Even her mother had told her she was too mature for her age. With Petyr, she could really discuss things she was interested in and didn’t get a bored expression in return. He was a very complex man. He was older, wiser and experienced but had a streak in him that was young and exciting. Sansa vaguely wondered if Petyr had a girlfriend considering how he lived.

His playlist went through songs Sansa never heard before and found herself tapping her toes in time on the floor. The selections taught Sansa a bit about him just by lyrics alone. Leaning her chin on her hand, listening to him, she began liking him more and more. If this had been a date, Sansa probably would have been hooked. However, it wasn’t a date and he was now her boss. She couldn’t imagine him doing this with other employees though. Sansa really didn’t know what to make of him. Petyr was an strangely, fascinating person. Fascinating but also extremely dangerous she reminded herself.

Their dinner plates had been empty for some time and Sansa didn’t know what time it was. It was definitely late. Petyr stood and picked up the plates taking them to the sink. He opened the fridge and brought out a bowl of strawberries and in a small saucepan on the stove was melted dark chocolate that Sansa didn’t notice from earlier.

“Come, sit on the stool here and bring the wine.”

“Why not over here…”

“What did you agree to in the bar that morning?” Petyr gave her a stern look and Sansa had to remember. She was getting a bit hazy from the wine.

“To do as you say,” she offered slowly.

“And a little trust, _Sansa_.”

Petyr hadn’t used her name once today. Hearing it roll off his tongue had her breathless. She did as she was told and sat on the stool placing the glasses on the counter. He stood in front of her and she didn’t know what was coming next. With one finger, he eased down the loose fitting shirt off her shoulder and Sansa held her breath. Gently, he peeled the bandage off and immediately she felt like an idiot.

“Wait here.”

He walked to the bathroom and Sansa exhaled. What the hell did she think he was going to do? She cursed herself silently. When Petyr returned he was holding a pair of surgical scissors and she looked at him nervously.

“I spoke to Pycel- erm, the doctor and he feels we can remove your stitches.” He looked to the strawberries and chocolate and smiled wickedly. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a treat.”

Petyr was teasing her, she knew, but at the same time she actually liked it. Sansa had enough wine, that when he made the first snip, it didn’t bother her at all like she feared it would. It was a bit awkward the way he was bent over her and suddenly he stopped.

“This isn’t working. I can’t see what I’m doing.” Before she could say a word, he turned her around on the stool with her back to the counter facing the light. She needed to brace her elbows on the granite for support as she felt him pull her long hair out of the way. Sansa tried with all her might to control her breathing. He debated on where to stand and then, without asking, pressed her thighs apart slowly to stand between them.

She was about to object when he hushed her next to her ear, “I’m trying to work here. Don’t break my concentration.”

Sansa gripped the edge of the granite as he cut away the stitches pulling the delicate threads out one by one. She could feel the heat of him and the smell of wine on his breath as he focused on his task. He was only removing stupid stitches but in this moment it was one of the most erotic things in her life in the way his fingers brushed her sensitive skin and his hot breath on her neck.

He leaned back and his face was so close. “All finished. I think you deserve a strawberry, don’t you?”

He moved away and Sansa needed a drink. Good God, her lady parts were actually aching. She went to take the last gulp of wine and he stopped her. Sansa tried to focus on something else to calm her nerves. The lyrics of the song playing in the background told a story distracting her to listen. The man’s voice boomed –

_There is a house in New Orleans_

_They call the Rising Sun_

_It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy_

_And God, I know, I’m one._

 

“No. You must really taste the contrast of the chocolate with this wine. Such an experience.”

Petyr dipped a strawberry in chocolate and handed it to her. Tentatively, she took it and while his piercing dark eyes gazed at her, she took a bite. She couldn’t look away as a bit of juice ran down her bottom lip.

“Now, taste the wine.”

Every vein pulsed in Sansa’s body as she sipped the wine as the song crescendo. The flavors that melded in her mouth were sensuous indeed with his penetrating stare as she savored it. Petyr took a bite of his strawberry and his eyes never left hers. He slowly walked back to her and leaned so close that his lips were only inches from hers. The song that played was every bit him, as though it were his story –

_Oh mother, tell your children_

_Not to do what I have done_

_Spend your lives in sin and misery_

_In the House of the Rising Sun._

 

Dear God, she actually wanted him to kiss her as Petyr hovered above her face. She felt his index finger wipe the juice from her lip. Her nerves kicked in and she couldn’t stop the words coming out of her mouth. What was happening here?

“Shouldn’t…um, shouldn’t we discuss business?”

Petyr smiled.

“But we have... we've talked business all night. I have everything I need to know.”

His voice was barely a whisper against her skin. He wasn’t even touching her and Sansa was ready to completely melt.

Her mouth was dry. “What do you know?”

His mouth ghosted up to her ear and breathed, “That there is still so much to teach you. But I think you’ll be a quick study. You’ve learned so much already tonight.”

“You’re teaching me?”

“Oh, yes.” He drawled slowly, “This…” Petyr grazed his lips over the skin just beneath her ear. “… is how you seduce someone.”

Petyr nipped her earlobe teasingly. Sansa’s eyes widened as she was speechless when he pulled away just far enough to look in her eyes. 

With that, he smiled and his eyes glowed. He took the half-eaten strawberry from her fingers with his mouth, licking the chocolate off in one delectable swipe of his tongue. Petyr stepped back and took the last gulp of his wine and started walking to the front door. He stopped and suddenly, returning as if forgetting something. He reached into one of the cupboards and pulled out a box of cheap drugstore hair dye in brown and set it on the counter.

“Use that tonight. We’ll fix it in the morning. I just don’t want your lovely red hair to be seen by anyone in public. For your safety, of course.”

Petyr made his way to the front door and opened it.

“Be ready to leave by nine.”

Sansa was so confounded at what just happened, she didn’t know what to say.

“Where are you taking me?”

Petyr turned and gave her a playful smile before he walked out.

“You’ll see. Goodnight, _Alayne_.”

 

* * *

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

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Sansa stepped out of the shower and dried herself, pulling her newly coloured hair into a turban on top of her head. She needed this shower badly after Petyr left a couple hours ago. He had seduced her and she didn’t even know it. The man barely touched her and she was ready to succumb to him. Sansa couldn’t believe she actually wanted him to kiss her, quivering from the swipe of his tongue on her finger and his mouth on her ear.

Sansa had never felt like such a moron. She thought she could control him because it was clear Petyr fancied her. He was not one of those naïve boys she was used to flirting with.

The girl that she saw in the mirror was more inexperienced than she thought. Sansa had tried to be coy with him thinking it would keep him interested. Older men seemed to desire young girls anyway. Petyr said so himself. Men wanted what they couldn’t have. Sansa wrongly assumed that Petyr would fall for her little flirtations because she was young and pretty.

Boy, was she wrong. He even told her that day in the bar not to be coquettish or overly brazen. There seemed to be an art to this and Petyr proved it by making her fall to pieces. What would she have done if he actually kissed her? Sansa barely knew this man and he made her want him effortlessly.

Petyr was only proving a point, she told herself, that her game was pathetic and she had much to learn if she was going to play. She was no longer Sansa and needed to become someone else – wear a mask. If Sansa was going to exact her revenge on Joffrey, she needed to find a way to get close to him.

Everyone came to the Mockingbird these days. It was the place to see and be seen, the ultimate hot spot in town. Joffrey had tried to take her there a few times but once her parents got wind of it, that ended that. Her father said it was nothing short of a drug-dealing whorehouse.

It was the beginning of the end with Joffrey anyway. His mother wanted him to marry Sansa to keep her family in line with her own. Little by little Sansa was finding out that Joffrey was cruel, sadistic and everything she didn’t want. She was glad when her father refused the proposal at the time. Sadly, Sansa had no idea it would have led her here and all alone. She was now going to mingle with the same people that they had tried so desperately to keep her away from. Sansa was going to learn how to deceive them all by the man that she was positive her father would have highly disapproved of.

Her father was no longer here to protect her anymore. Sansa had to take care of herself now and Petyr seemed to be her best option considering her current situation. He was going to teach her how to play his game. Sansa would never get near the Lannisters on her own. But here, in this place, they would come to her.

Petyr really did set up something brilliantly perfect. Make them come to him. Yes, he did jobs for them, but Sansa was beginning to believe the only reason he did so was to gain trust. It was give and take. They came to his club and spent loads of money even when he gave them freebies. Petyr was keeping them happy, rich and in return, he was reaping the rewards in not only money but power. Sansa wondered just how wealthy Petyr was.

Everything in this small apartment had quite the price tag on it. Yet at the same time, Sansa couldn’t imagine that he spent all of his time here. She had been here well over a week and was going crazy no matter how luxurious this place was.

What did Petyr do when he wasn’t working? Did he have a woman in his life? Hobbies? Anything besides this awful job? It had to be a lonely life. Sansa certainly couldn’t see him with a family somewhere. Petyr did not seem like the man that trusted anyone or have anyone close to him. What did it really matter? She didn’t know him and needed to remember that.

Sansa took the towel off her head and frowned. She hated this colour. She couldn’t believe with all his style and taste that Petyr approved of this hideous crap. It was mousy, dull and plain ugly. How the hell was she supposed to fix this, as he said, by morning?

 _To hell with it_.

If this is what Petyr wanted, then so be it. She would be ugly and forever locked up in his tower. Sansa slipped on her silk nightgown and now hated the way it felt on her. This night, the clothes, the lingerie – everything had been a game from the beginning.

Sansa pulled down the covers and plopped onto his soft bed. She was more furious with herself than him. She looked at her shoulder and the scar was indeed ugly too. Good, she thought. Might as well be that way. The effects of the wine had finally made her drowsy and even though her shoulder hurt a bit, she didn’t dare take any pills. She saw the sling over by the table and she didn’t want to pull herself out of bed to get it. She was far too tired to move.

She had cleaned up after dinner, dyed her hair and now it was extremely late and Petyr wanted to leave by mid morning. She felt the raw and glossy scar and in her mind saw the multiple scars on his back. God, if this hurt and it wasn’t even a bad wound from what he told her, what must have he felt to be shot in the back like that? Petyr didn’t move or act like it bothered him in any way and wondered how long ago it happened. He seemed to be very skilled and Sansa had a hard time believing someone got the better of him.

She wanted to stop thinking about Petyr Baelish. The more she tried, the more her mind played over and over those last few minutes with him tonight. Sansa’s eyes fluttered close with exhaustion and all she could feel was the feather like touch of his lips to her skin under her ear where he had teased her.

 

 

 

 

Sansa was having a lovely dream and the constant pounding was irritating to say the least. She turned and buried her head in the pillow to muffle it. It was quiet again and she felt herself drifting off until there was a dip in the mattress and the sensation of fingers running through her hair.

“I know your clock is working perfectly because it’s mine. So, that makes you fifteen minutes late by my time. And time is money. Get up.”

Petyr whipped the covers off her and left the bed to open the drapes to let in the morning light. Sansa winced at the brightness and groaned. That wine must have gotten to her because she had slept right through the alarm she set for eight o’clock.

_Fifteen minutes late – fuck!_

It was after nine and he expressly told her to be ready. _Damnit!_ Sansa slid her legs out of the bed and rubbed her shoulder lightly. It hurt this morning. Because of the wine, she hadn’t taken any pills and now she was regretting it. Petyr was in the kitchen and she could see him pouring a glass of juice and grabbing a muffin that he bought yesterday. Sansa was hungry and when she stumbled towards him to take it, he took a bite instead. It wasn’t for her, his body language clearly stated. He was dressed smartly in a black suit and cream shirt as she stood in her nightgown before him.

Petyr raised his eyebrows as he swallowed the sweet pastry. “I’m waiting. Get dressed. I hate being late.”

Sansa scowled at him. She was in no mood for his games this morning. She picked the only clothes she had that were clean off the chair and realized he had not moved an inch.

“Are you going to watch?” It wasn’t an offer. She was mad at him and wasn’t about to hide it.

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Petyr grinned like a devil and took another bite of his poppy seed muffin.

Sansa glared at him holding her clothes to her chest as she walked past him towards the bathroom. She glanced back and Petyr pointed to his wristwatch silently telling her to get moving. She washed her face and dressed quickly. Looking in the mirror she cursed at her hair, tying it back and opening the door.

“It’s ugly. I hate it.”

Petyr studied her and smiled, “Yes, it is unfortunate, isn’t it?” It didn’t phase him one bit as he handed her two pills and a glass of juice. “Come on, we’re already late and there is much to do today.”

Sansa swallowed the pills and finished off the juice quickly. When she went to retrieve her sling, Petyr paused. “Do you need it? It’s only going to get in the way. But if you must – ”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Good.” Petyr tossed her a muffin and opened the door. He waited as she passed and grimaced at her hair. “Why anyone would actually want to dye their hair that colour is beyond me.”

Sansa wanted to smack him for good measure but refrained. If this was how it was going to be today, she wasn’t sure how much she would be able to take before she snapped. The only good thing was she was finally getting out this building and so she held her tongue.

Petyr guided her to the service lift and pressed the code to access the first floor. They must be going out the back door, Sansa figured. Instead, he led her down another hallway she had not seen that day and opened the door. It was a garage and parked there was a Jaguar in gunmetal grey.

Her parents had nice cars but this was perfectly suited to Petyr. Men like him wore designer clothes and drove cars like this. Looking at him, Sansa thought she couldn’t imagine men like Petyr at all. Petyr opened the passenger door and waited for her. Sinking into the leather seat, Sansa couldn’t deny she liked it when he closed the door.

It had a light scent of cigarettes, mint and a lingering hint of his cologne. She buckled her seat belt as Petyr sat in the drivers seat to her right. It close quarters but very luxurious. The car hummed to life as she felt his hand brush against her thigh shifing into gear and pulled out of the garage into the daylight.

They were completely silent as he drove along the busy streets. It was mid week and the city was bustling with activity. Sansa was grateful for the heavily tinted windows in the car but with this atrocious hair, she thought it would be a miracle if someone recognized her. She glanced at Petyr as he drove. He looked so different in the day somehow as if he were just a rich businessman on his way to work. His silver rimmed sunglasses framed his face perfectly as he focused on the road. He still had a light scruff on his face but it suited him. The sun picked up the hint of grey in his hair and on his face and Sansa thought again that he was a strikingly attractive.

“You’re staring again. One might question your upbringing.”

Petyr didn’t look her way as he took a corner a bit sharply. Sansa turned her head to gaze out her window. Outside, people went about their normal day. The man in the suit, she imagined was going to work after kissing his wife and children goodbye. A young couple were jogging with their dog; Sansa thought they looked in love the way they smiled at each other. A well-dressed woman was carrying Gucci bags while on her mobile and Sansa thought she could be the wife of a millionaire spending all his money. Sansa saw her reflection in the dark window and wondered, who was she going to become? Who was Alayne?

Petyr pulled the car over and parked it. They were in the shopping district of the city, the very upscale one that she and her friends used to pass by on their way to somewhere else. They would pretend they had loads of money and could buy whatever they wanted. Sansa’s family did well but not that well off. She did love fashion but could never afford the things she saw in magazines.

Joffrey used to spoil her with expensive gifts and Sansa had to admit her head was turned at his wealth. Now, she could only imagine what kind of life she would have had with him. An abused, rich wife that had nothing better to do than shop, get plastic surgery and take drugs – someone like Aunt Lysa.

The valet opened her door and she followed Petyr to the sidewalk. “Good to see you again, Mr. Baelish. I’ll take good care of it as always.” Petyr slipped the young man a tip and guided her to the entrance.

Sansa looked at the window and it was a very posh salon. One she would have been giddy to enter and spend her entire day getting a makeover. That’s what Petyr meant when he said they were going to fix her hair. He didn’t want them to see her natural hair colour that might raise questions. Sansa Stark was dead in everyone’s eyes yet Petyr was playing it safe.

It was oddly quiet as they entered the salon. Strange, Sansa thought, a place like this should always be busy. The manager greeted them and was very complimentary to Petyr and suddenly it hit her. He bought out a block of time here for privacy that’s why he was intent on being so punctual this morning.

_Time is money._

“Mr.Baelish, always good to see you. I was curious what you had in mind when you made the appointment. Not the usual cut and manicure today I can see.”

The man gave Sansa a disapproving look that made her fidget with her hair. He was taller than Petyr and appeared to be in his late thirties. He was very handsome with his chestnut hair that wisped down to his broad shoulders.

“Martin, I need your expertise on this. I want only the best for my lady here. A full transformation, if you will,” Petyr smiled as he removed his sunglasses and stowed them in his jacket pocket.

Martin walked around Sansa appraising her as if she were a prize cow. He untied her hair and tutted. “Beautiful bone structure… luminous eyes and skin. The hair is healthy but this colour belongs in the gutter. Love, if you ever use a drugstore colour on your hair again after I’m finished with you, I will shave you bald.”

Sansa glared at Petyr wanting to tell them he was the one that bought it but kept silent. Martin took Sansa to a salon chair and sat her down draping a smock around her neck. He sifted his fingers through her hair and contemplated what to do.

“She would be stunning in red, don’t you agree?”

She saw Petyr smile from behind her in the mirror. “Yes, she would, but I’m thinking something more dramatic – very film noir. Darker perhaps?”

“I would never bleach these tresses. No, no, no. Definitely darker, yes, but not brunette… too boring for her. If not red, then it should be a rich onyx with blue undertones. With her blue eyes and pale skin, she will be ethereal. Hmm, hair needs to be cut with layers to frame her face and needs body, what do you think?”

Martin wasn’t asking Sansa’s opinion even though she was the one he was discussing. Petyr mulled it over with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Yes. She would be divine in black, wouldn’t she?”

Sansa wasn’t entirely sure Petyr was talking about her hair the way he looked at her and she tried to push those thoughts away. It was clear, by the way these men talked around her, Sansa wasn’t going to have any voice in the matter. Petyr’s plan was to change her into someone else, and he really meant it.

“Well, I’ve got my work cut out for me with this one. I have a double espresso waiting for you and Mary for your manicure.”

Sansa watched as Petyr left her making his way across the salon where a pretty girl with long, blonde hair put on her best smile. She seemed to be around Sansa’s age and was dallying with him from the start. Petyr removed his jacket and sat down.

Martin was mixing colour and all Sansa could do was watch Petyr drink his espresso with one hand as the blonde soaked the other. She was doing all the things Petyr told Sansa not to do. The blonde drifted back and forth between coy and brazen, as she made sure she touched him more than she had to. She rolled up his sleeves slowly, lightly dragged her fingers down his wrist.

However, unlike with Sansa, Petyr didn’t throw a tea towel at the blonde. No, instead he gave it right back to her. He was _flirting!_ Petyr’s eyes never left the pretty girl, _Mary_ , and he chatted with her in a way that made Sansa’s blood boil.

_For Christ’s sake, did she just flip her hair?_

Sansa looked back in the mirror and caught Martin with a smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry, love. He’s been coming here for years. That bleached trollop doesn’t have a chance in hell. He would fuck _me_ before that. It’s a good thing she’s brilliant with manicures or she’d be working the pavement at night.”

Sansa couldn’t help it and started laughing. She liked Martin and suddenly felt at ease in his hands.

“Darling, when I’m done, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Sansa felt Martin was just trying to be nice, but the words made her feel uneasy. Sansa had to wonder what people thought about them. A wealthy, older man and this young girl he was spending money on. Did they think Petyr was her sugar daddy? Sansa didn’t like being thought of as some gold digging tart but she pushed those feelings down into her gut. Just play indifferent and get through this day. They didn’t know who she was. As far as anyone knew, she was just a nameless girl with a rich man.

_I am not Sansa Stark anymore. I am Alayne and she doesn’t have emotions. She doesn’t fear. She is immune to all hurtful things._

Sansa glanced at Petyr again and he was fully engaged with the blonde as she shaped his nails. She looked back into the mirror and took a deep breath as Martin started painting her hair with the black mixture. Anything was better than this muddy brown and she felt confident that Martin wouldn’t let her leave looking anything but lovely. Sansa closed her eyes and let him work.

Time passed quickly and Martin was massaging her scalp with conditioner that had her almost falling asleep. He dried her hair and brought her back to the chair she began in. She didn’t know what to think as the black hair fell down her shoulders in wet strands. She couldn’t visualize it and became nervous.

Looking over to where Petyr had been sitting, Sansa discovered it empty. She looked around fearfully that he had left her here. Suddenly, she spotted him outside smoking a cigarette while talking on his mobile. Something was wrong. His body language was stiff and his mouth was contorted in a way as he spoke that made her feel that whomever was on the other end was getting an ear full.

“Would you like a latte or mimosa perhaps?” Martin’s voice brought her focus back and Sansa smiled sweetly even though the thought of alcohol made her stomach turn right now. She definitely had too much wine last night.

“A latte would be lovely, thank you.”

Martin began snipping away at her long hair. By the time a girl brought her latte, a good amount of her locks lay on the floor. He carefully layered it out and once satisfied starting blow-drying her hair. As it dried Sansa could see now that the black wasn’t flat and dull at all as she worried it might be. Whatever he did, there was a dark iridescence of blue undertones that made it beautiful. It was glossy with shine and the layers flattered her face. He was adding curl to it when Petyr finally returned to her.

“My dear, I will be gone for a few minutes.” Petyr leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Stay here or I will have Martin shave your head.” His tone was teasing but Sansa felt he’d make good on that threat if she disobeyed him. She nodded with a small smile and without a second glance; he was grabbing his jacket and putting on his sunglasses. “Martin, I leave her in your good hands. I’ll be back shortly to collect her.”

Sansa sipped her latte and decided to relax. She always wanted a makeover and now she was going to get one. She might as well make the best of it.

Another hour or so went by and Petyr had not returned. The same blonde gave her the best French mani-pedi and hand massage in the world. Petyr had advised them what he wanted before he left and Sansa didn’t have a say in any of it. Anytime she spoke up, the only reply she received was that _the gentleman_ instructed otherwise. Sansa gave up and just let them work. Petyr was someone who got exactly as he wanted it seemed. He was paying the bill, so why would they listen to her?

Another girl did her makeup as Martin supervised. Sansa’s eyebrows were waxed, tinted and shaped and her eyelashes tinted black as well. Martin told her that for evening if she wore false lashes they would make her blue eyes pop even more but overall suggested simple makeup. The makeup artist worked her magic and instructed Sansa on what she was using and how to re-create a day and evening look. In the meantime, Martin had several bags of products for her face; hair and body that Sansa did not want to know the price tag of.

When they were finally finished, Martin fussed with her hair a little more and decided to give her a touch of fringe around her forehead at the last minute when Petyr walked in. Martin turned Sansa around to face the mirror and she was shocked at her reflection.

Sansa didn’t even recognize herself. Her blues eyes were almost fluorescent from underneath the dark lashes and light smoky eye shadow. She never knew how long her lashes were until tinted. She always had good skin but whatever this woman did, made her look like a movie star from the old silver screen days. Her skin glowed like peaches and cream and her lips were painted a soft mauve rose.

Petyr was scanning his phone when he finally looked up at her. He was motionless and for a moment Sansa wondered if he was not pleased with the end result. The corner of his mouth twitched but he didn’t smile. With his sunglasses on, she couldn’t see his eyes to tell what he was really thinking.

“Martin, she is exquisite. Absolutely beautiful work. Once again, you are the best in town.” Petyr didn’t say a word to her as he pulled out his billfold and handed several notes to Martin. “For you, and this is for the staff. Bill me for everything else.”

Martin followed them out to Petyr’s waiting Jaguar and put the numerous bags in the trunk. The valet was leering at Sansa as she walked over to the car door when Martin stepped between them to help her into the vehicle.

Petyr was tipping the valet when Martin bent down whispering in her ear. “I told you he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off you. Whatever it is, my dear, you have it. He’s never brought a girl to me before.” Martin kissed her hand and slipped a small bottle into her palm, “Spray that down there and he’ll be eating that pussy like a starved man. Just a little gift from this jealous queen. I’ve wanted him for ages.” Martin winked at her. “Enjoy him, love.”

Martin shut her door as Petyr climbed in the car. “What was that about?”

“Hmmm?” Sansa was too shocked for words at the moment.

“Martin. He gave you something.” Nothing got past this man and Sansa opened her palm revealing the small perfume sized bottle.

“Just a little gift. A perfume he said you, erm, I might like.” Petyr took the bottle from her hand and inspected it. Without smelling it, he handed it back to her.

“Well, Martin has exceptional taste, I’ll trust him on it. He is the best in the business.”

Petyr shifted the car into gear and pulled out into traffic. Once again he was silent and Sansa toyed with the bottle in her fingers just for something to do. After this transformation, he didn’t tell her once that she looked nice or was happy about it. He told Martin what a wonderful job he did but nothing to Sansa.

She finally broke the silence, “Are we going back now?”

Petyr smiled at last and looked at her. “No. You need a new wardrobe. If you’re going to be my assistant, you need to look the part.”

“So –  a couple of suits?” She assumed that he had simple business attire in mind for her.

“Something like that – and other things.” Petyr didn’t allude to what he meant and Sansa didn’t want to know what was up his sleeve for the afternoon. “Are you hungry?”

She was just thinking about it when her stomach rumbled loudly. Petyr chuckled to himself, “Remind me to feed you first if we’re ever to be hiding out somewhere. That noise would surely give us away.”

Sansa smiled this time. Sometimes she enjoyed his humour but something made her think. Petyr used the term _we_ and _us_ as if he was thinking of her as a partner of some kind. Sansa didn’t want to dwell too much on it. Maybe she was just over thinking what he said.

“We’ll grab a bite after this, it shouldn’t be long.” Petyr turned a corner and parked in front of some of the most expensive designer stores in town.

“Are you joking?” Sansa was wide eyed at where he was taking her.

“If you think I’m dressing you in H&M, you’re sorely mistaken.” Petyr chided her with a hint of mirth. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

The valet helped her from the car and once again the man was checking her out unabashedly. This time Petyr was having none of it and took her arm in his own as if claiming her. Sansa noticed he didn’t tip the man as well as the one near the salon.

Sansa looked up and down the street and couldn’t believe Petyr was going to buy her clothes here. She remembered when she saved up to buy a Burberry handbag and her father chastised her for wasting her money on something so frivolous. Sansa was glad he never asked her about some of her shoes or she was sure she would have been raked over the coals. She never understood the big deal. Her mother had some very nice jewels and clothes for special occasions. What was wrong with splurging on something she wanted once in awhile?

Sansa didn’t know the meaning of the word splurge until Petyr walked her into the first of several stores with the intention of buying her an entire new wardrobe just because he could.

Salespeople could smell money it seemed, because in an instant, three of them came up to Petyr and Sansa offering their assistance. He indicated what he wanted and like clockwork people just seemed to do what he asked without question. The women had Sansa stand on a pedestal and measured her while Petyr sat in a cozy chair and was focused on his phone. Occasionally, he would look up, but he seemed more interested in business elsewhere.

Again, the saleswomen came to him, _the money,_ to look over the items he requested for approval. He picked out a couple of jackets, skirts and blouses and two dresses and went back to his phone as the women pulled Sansa into the dressing room to change.

The first two suits were nice but they made her feel too old and he seemed to feel the same way as waved his hand in disapproval. This dress she tried on next, she loved. It was elegant and modest without being stuffy. The navy blue material was amazing as it ruched asymmetrical up her side making her figure look like an hourglass.

Sansa walked out and Petyr smiled. He liked it along with a wispy black chiffon skirt and dark silvery form fitting sleeveless blouse. He didn’t want any trousers it seemed. She was only getting skirts and dresses. A black sheath dress that made her feel like Audrey Hepburn and a few others were Sansa’s favourites and couldn’t wait to wear them.

Shoes were found to match and a few handbags. Sansa always wanted a Burberry coat, and now this man was buying her the best in the store along with a few accessories and simple jewelry. Nothing too flashy, Petyr said. Simple elegance is what he wanted for her. With a new pair of sunglasses and bags and bags of merchandise, Petyr told her to change into the blue dress while he paid for everything.

As they left the store, and walked down the street, she received stare after stare from men. With her striking black hair, stunning dress and heels, Sansa looked like she belonged with Petyr in his Armani suit. Sansa couldn’t help but feel like a million dollars today and when the next man oogled her, she felt Petyr’s arm slip through hers and her stomach flipped.

There was a small French café amongst the stores, and Sansa realized that was the reason he wanted to leave so quickly. Petyr was just as hungry as she was. It was a beautiful day and they were seated outside under the striped awning. Petyr didn’t seem to be concerned at all about anyone seeing her, that’s how good her makeover ended up. She was now just a pretty dark haired girl having lunch with one, notorious Petyr Baelish.

He drank his whiskey as she sipped her mineral water and as far as anyone was concerned, they were a just another wealthy couple. Perhaps he was a married man stepping out on his wife with a young girl or she was an ingénue that managed to catch herself a rich, older man.

Petyr spent more time on his phone than talking to her and Sansa ate in relative silence. This wasn’t some kind of date, it was business and Petyr acted exactly as a boss would have. Frankly, a public café wasn’t the place to discuss killing the Lannisters.

The next shop had Sansa lightly nervous. The clothing here was mainly formal and had her wondering what in the world Petyr was thinking. Once again, a woman was measuring her as Petyr watched with a smirk on his face. One after the other, beautiful cocktail dresses were brought out and Sansa tried to hide her astonishment.

A black silk dress that hugged her every curve was chosen along with a vibrant blue piece that made her eyes brilliant to match. The gathered silk was off her shoulders and draped in a way that looked she could be unraveled like present. It dipped very low in the back almost to her bottom of her spine but the bodice wasn’t as low, she thought gratefully.

The last dress was intoxicating. It was a one shoulder, sleeveless gown that reached the floor in rich emerald green silk and black chiffon with accents of peacock feathers at her shoulder. She had never worn something so exquisite in her life. The material draped down from her injured shoulder and made her waist look tiny as it flared past her hips to the floor in rich folds with a slit up the side.

Petyr came up and looked her over. He told the manager he wanted it fitted to cover her scar completely and the skirt raised up enough that it wasn’t dragging on the floor. She needed to move about easily wearing it. Sansa couldn’t fathom where the hell she would wear a gown such as this. This was a dress for a red carpet.

The dresses were fitted and would be delivered later after being finished to Petyr’s specifications. This shop also had quite the lingerie selection and Sansa’s heart raced. She prayed Petyr wouldn’t notice and they could just leave the shop now. Her stomach dropped like a rock when the saleswoman started giving him items to look over.

Petyr glanced her way and tilted his head telling her to join him. Sansa’s feet were heavy with each step until she was at his side. She listened as the woman discussed her cup size and what would look good on her frame. Petyr picked up a few lacy items that made her feel anxious.

There was no way Sansa was going to model them for him if that’s what he intended. She didn’t understand why she needed such sultry items anyway. No one was going to see them under those gorgeous dresses he bought. She stood silent as the woman told Petyr that the knickers she was holding how they would look on her and that she should wear a Parisian style demi bra that would make her breasts look fuller.

The saleswoman handed him garters and the like and Sansa couldn’t stop fidgeting beside him. She had never been more uncomfortable in her life. It was bad enough they were discussing her body as if she were a mannequin standing there, but Petyr was holding items up and clearly picturing how they would look on her.

The woman knew her exact measurements and handed several pieces to Sansa to try on with thigh-high silk stockings. She took a sigh of relief when the woman didn’t follow her into the posh dressing room. She lingered for a time before trying the garments on finally and gazing in the mirror.

_No one is born a femme fatale._

Sansa hadn’t even donned the stockings and the woman looking back at her was something out of a art film. The saleswoman knew her trade because everything fit Sansa like a glove. The lacy, black knickers were still modest enough but the cut was very sexy and the bra made her breasts look larger than they were. She was so absorbed in the strange, beautiful woman that stared back at her from the mirror that she didn’t hear him enter the room until he was right behind her in the reflection.

She jumped covering her mouth but didn’t scream being acutely aware of where they were and not wanting to create a scene. Sansa grabbed her dress to desperately try and cover herself.

“Sweetling, you have nothing that I haven’t seen before many times in my establishment. Although, I must admit – you are far more lovely.” Petyr gave her an appreciative gaze from head to toe and her abdomen filled with nervous butterflies.

_He shouldn’t be looking at me like this._

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she whispered harshly.

“Why not? To them, you are obviously with me. I’m sure they have already made an opinion of what we are to each other long before now and I’ll wager it is far from innocent.” Sansa backed up until she felt the cold mirror on her skin as Petyr advanced slowly like a predator stalking his prey.

“I don’t care what they think, you still shouldn’t see me like this.”

“I think the problem is that _you_ can’t see yourself like this.” Petyr was so close she could feel the heat that radiated off him. “You still think you’re an innocent school girl and you need to let that go. Stop being the girl and become the woman. Come here, let me show you something.”

Petyr pulled Sansa forward by her hand as he stepped backwards a few paces. Turning her around, she faced the mirror again with him behind her. He took the dress out of her hands and tossed it aside. Instinctively, she tried to cover herself but Petyr held her arms down at her sides forcing her to look at herself.

“It’s more than just putting on a pretty dress. It’s also what’s underneath.” Petyr penetrating eyes bore through her reflection.

“What’s the point? No one is going to see these.” Sansa bravely met his gaze in the mirror and hissed at him, “I am _not_ whoring myself out like your _other_ girls. I have no intention of Joffrey or anyone else seeing me in next to nothing.”

She felt his soft laugh reverberate in his chest against her back as he continued his grip on her arms. “Plain, white cotton knickers underneath a silk Valentino dress and you want to pretend to play this game?” Petyr sighed and tilted his head towards hers.

“If you’re going to play, you have bet all or nothing. None of this half-arsed attempts at dress up in mummy’s wardrobe. It’s more than just wearing the mask of the role you want to act, you have to be it completely. It’s all acting and role play, my dear. But to be convincing, you have to be that character from head to toe, inside and out.”

Her heart was beating a mile a minute at the way Petyr stared at her, his eyes dark filled with desire.

“You will have to seduce and charm and you can’t do that in cotton panties. I have whores that dress in a tarted up school uniform for men that want a little girl. _You are not a little girl_.” Petyr's hands released her arms and his fingers traveled down her limbs tortuously slow while his eyes never broke contact with hers.

“Every man that saw you today had only one thing on their minds, sweetling.” His hands rested on her hips lightly teasing the lace there. “What sumptuousness lay underneath that clothing?” He purred in her ear making her core ache.

Sansa’s breath quickened and she couldn’t stop herself, “I feel – _look_ _like a whore_.”

“ _No_. You look like a desirable and gorgeous woman. You still feel like a school girl.”

Petyr’s hands trailed fire across her stomach as his fingers grazed the edge of her knickers below her navel. God, he would have to buy them now because she could feel a wetness between her thighs. She would steal them if she must, to keep that knowing saleswoman from seeing proof of what they were probably gossiping about right now in the shop.

“Men would kill to worship this body and drag that lace down your legs with their teeth.”

Petyr’s lips brushed her ear and the warmth of his breath tickled her neck. He smelled of mint and that wonderful cologne he wore. Here she was, standing practically naked before him in a dressing room with strangers a few steps away and Sansa wanted him, right now. No boy had ever made her feel so wanton before.

“You want them to desire you… to want nothing else in the world except you but you won’t give it to them. Because… you don’t belong to them. They are not worthy of such magnificence.”

One of Petyr’s hands skirted the lower edge of her bra as a thumb lightly brushed across a lace-covered nipple. Sansa had to keep herself from moaning and she felt him smile against her skin. His other hand drifted lower and lower and she was wet with anticipation. She actually wanted him to touch her and held her breath. His fingers hovered above where she was aching but he didn’t touch her.

“I think you should probably keep these on unless you want everyone in the next room to know how soaked these are right now.” Petyr dragged a finger over the lace between her legs and she quivered in his embrace. He made her shudder with a single touch and brought the glistening digit to his mouth, tasting it.

Petyr sighed darkly against her neck and released her abruptly. “As I said before… such a shame. Fucking you would be sinfully glorious.”

Walking to the door, he flashed her a brilliant smile before leaving Sansa to collect herself. Petyr was the devil, she was sure of it now. Sansa pulled off the tags before dressing herself and tried to shake off what just happened. He was probably waiting impatiently for her right now but Sansa was afraid of the other people in the store. What would they think?

Gazing at herself in the mirror, Sansa was indeed a school girl playing dress up the way she acted all day. She needed to become that woman Petyr saw, not a little naïve teenage girl. She was twenty and needed to start acting like it. Plus, a scared little girl was never going to reap revenge on her families murderer. Sansa took a deep breath and composed herself. How she walked out of here would determine the path she had chosen. She opened her eyes and looked at herself.

_I am Alayne. I am not scared of anyone or anything… especially the devil himself, and his name is Petyr Baelish._

  



	10. Chapter 10

 

 

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Sansa was silent in the car as Petyr drove after leaving the shop. When she walked out of the dressing room, her head was held high with straight shoulders and poise that she never knew she had. Petyr was signing the receipt when she came up and linked her arm in his. The saleswomen had different looks on their faces ranging from smirks, judgmental, and one seemed a bit jealous. Sansa put a smile on her face.

_Judge all you like, ladies. But this man just spent thousands of dollars on me and not you._

“I’m ready when you are,” she dropped her voice an octave and squeezed his arm.

She could play this game. It was all an act. Sansa didn’t care if these women thought she was shagging an older man and having him buy her expensive things. She would not feel degraded. She would take these things and make them hers – make herself Alayne. Sansa would learn from Petyr and become a woman that was capable of seducing anyone and getting anything she wanted. What she wanted was revenge, and this was the first step to playing a game that would get her closer to her goal.

The older woman gave her a disapproving look and Sansa couldn’t help but toy with them a little. She didn’t flinch and stared back at the woman as if daring her to say a word to her. Fuck these haughty bitches. Who did they think they were? Sansa would give them something to gossip about.

Leaning into Petyr, kissed his cheek and crooned, “Thank you, baby, I love everything.” She saw his lips twitch into a half-smile that told her he knew she was playing. “And you’ll love what I’m going to do you tonight.”

She looked back, and two of the women were shocked as the other was still staring at her as if she were some harlot. Challenge accepted, Sansa grinned. “In fact, I think you need a little reminder while you’re at work today…”

Petyr raised a single eyebrow as she shimmied her new lacy, black panties down her legs under her dress and used his arm for support as she stepped one foot out of them. Sansa popped her other foot behind her and snatched the garment into her fingers. They were slightly damp, and she knew he would be able to smell her musky scent on them as she brought it closer between them. Sansa never broke eye contact with Petyr as she stuffed the lacy item into the pocket inside his soft, wool jacket.

Without a word or a second glance, Sansa walked out with a satisfied smile on her face leaving a store shocked into silence. What she didn’t see was a devilish grin on the man that now had her brand new panties in his pocket as he followed her out.

The silence in the car was deafening and Sansa began to wonder if she made a huge mistake. This was a very strange thing. Her family was dead and gone and now Sansa was letting a man doll her up to murder her enemies. Sansa couldn't understand why she felt numb about it. She should be scared shitless. Yet, it wasn't just revenge Sansa had planned, she was unexpectedly attracted to her teacher. She let him seduce and touch her - worst of all, she liked it. What was happening to her?

“Are you angry with me?”

“What did I tell you about being too brazen?” Petyr’s face was emotionless.

“I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone. I wasn’t about to let those women judge me. You were the one that started it by coming into the dressing room.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Petyr broke out into laughter. “You continue to surprise me, sweetling.” He shook his head in amusement. “I’m probably not welcome in that shop again – but it was worth _every_ cent.”

Petyr had a smile on his face as he took a road that led them out of the city heading towards the bay. Sansa didn’t ask where they were going nor did she ask for him to return her knickers that she assumed still hid in his pocket.

Did she expect he would be a gentleman and give them back to her? Sansa didn’t know what she would do with them at this moment if he did. She couldn’t exactly put them on in the car. Yet at the same time, she felt incredibly naked without them. The dress was short but gratefully not so much that she would be in danger of being exposed sitting in this seat.

“You haven’t asked where I’m taking you.” Petyr gripped the steering wheel as the road wound like a snake around the hills.

“You said you wanted trust, didn’t you?” Sansa glanced at him and saw a genuine smile on his lips.

“If we trust each other, then this will be a mutually beneficial partnership for both of us.”

Petyr wanted Sansa’s trust as he said last night, but he was willing to trust her in return? He barely knew her. Sansa felt trepidation at the prospect of it but at the same time exhilaration. Petyr spent thousands of dollars on her today turning her into someone else – someone he could mold and that Sansa could pretend to be.

Sansa Stark would never have attempted what Alayne did a half-hour ago. Sansa wouldn’t have let a man old enough to be her father, seduce her and even think about touching her. Sansa, wouldn’t be able to kill anyone… but Alayne could – and she would.

A sharp turn around the bend and Sansa could see the bay spread out in front of them. It was late afternoon and the early descent of the sun played beautiful tones of gold and pink upon the blue water. It was autumn now, but boats were still sailing and the weather was comfortable and cool.

The homes here were magnificent. Stunning mansions along the waterfront and ones that cut into the hills. Sansa’s family had lived on the other side of Kings Landing away from all this decadence. Her home was lavish, but it had a rustic charm tucked away into the rugged northern hills. Sometimes Sansa felt very cut off from the rest of the city and once dreamed of living here. Joffrey threw his money around just to show he had it. She knew how wealthy the Lannisters and Baratheons were and wondered what it would be like to live like them.

Petyr drove around the bay and started up a small road where she saw a lovely house on the edge of it. It was very modern in its design and quite a ways from the other mansions giving it a lonely vibe. The house sat on rocky terrain with a steep cliff to back and lush greenery surrounding the grounds. To the east the was a panoramic view of the bay with city lights of Kings Landing in the distance. It would be dusk soon, and Sansa thought it would be beautiful to watch the sun set from here.

The car pulled into the drive, and Petyr turned off the engine. This was his home, Sansa realized. She had wondered how wealthy he was and this gave her a decent answer to that question. She knew Cersei’s mansion was on the other side of the bay closer to the city and how posh it was. Petyr wasn’t the head of any house in the Syndicate, and yet he owned this place.

He opened the door for her and Sansa stepped out gingerly, trying not to give him a full view of what she was no longer wearing under her silk dress. He walked to the front gate, entered a code, and the heavy iron opened automatically. The gardens were spectacular as she walked along the perfectly placed flagstones. Palm trees, pines, lush green shrubs and bright palette of flowers. There was a little waterfall and stream. Nothing could have prepared her for this oasis outside the city. It didn’t seem like him at all, or maybe it did. How would she know?

This man had so many different facets to him. Petyr was the owner of a nightclub and brothel, a dealer in women and drugs, and God knows what else. He did odd jobs for the Syndicate and was overall a very dangerous person. Yet, here she was walking in a beautiful garden that seemed to belong to a very different man. Maybe it was a sanctuary to get away from his job –  his other life.

He opened another large iron and glass door into a grand foyer. The décor was a mixture and old and new world. The building itself was very modern in its design, yet Petyr filled it with relics, artwork, and furniture that were from another world, another time. The contrast between a hand-carved wardrobe from India, weathered with age and the new age architecture was brilliant. Clearly, Petyr was a lover of art. Sansa wasn’t an expert, but she recognized many styles of different artists. Some of these paintings had to be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

A heavy wool, Persian rug lay across the stone floor and Sansa was afraid to even step on it. The house was beautiful in every way, but it was cold. It felt like a museum and not a home. The click of her new heels across the floor echoed, and nothing else could be heard except the waves crashing against the shore below.

“How long have you lived here?” Sansa asked without thinking.

“A few years now. I don’t stay here as often as I would like. I’m usually too busy to enjoy it.”

Petyr walked into the large sitting room that overlooked the bay. Floor to ceiling windows spanned the entire room in making it feel completely open to the outside. Petyr stepped behind what looked like a bar and started tinkering behind the counter.

“I’m making tea, would you like one?” He didn’t look at her as she wandered around the room, observing his collections.

“Yes, please.”

Petyr completely confused her. He was dangerous and not a man to be trifled with. He was highly intelligent, savvy, and knew the business and the people he worked for. He was attractive on so many different levels, and it scared the hell out of her. After what happened last night and in the dressing room today, Sansa was somewhat nervous when he brought her here. Did Petyr take her playful offer seriously? Here, he had complete privacy, and she had no way out if he wanted to make good on it.

Yet, there he stood making tea as if she were an old friend paying a visit. Petyr didn’t leer at her, didn’t touch her, and didn’t say a word about it like she worried. Once again, just like dinner last night, she felt completely comfortable with him.

“Let me guess, one cube and a touch of milk?”

Sansa smiled, “Yes, thank you.”

She looked out the windows and off the side of the patio was a decent sized swimming pool. She could see stairs that led down the rocky cliff to the shore and wondered if Petyr had a boat too.

“Do you sail?”

Sansa was about to answer when the bell rang to what she believed was the front gate. She looked back to Petyr and his face was full of surprise. Whoever it was, he wasn’t expecting them. Sansa felt not many people knew about this place if at all. Her assumption was right when he walked around the bar with a gun in his hand that he must have had hidden there.

He moved to the security panel near the foyer and tapped the screen a few times looking through the video feeds. Petyr’s voice was full of anger and irritation.

“Fucking Christ.”

Suddenly a shrill woman’s voice echoed, and Sansa knew to whom it belonged.

“Petyr, I know you’re home. I need to talk to you this instant. You will _not_ ignore me any longer…” The voice was cut off immediately and Petyr turned back to Sansa.

“It’s your Aunt Lysa."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

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Petyr rubbed his chin and gazed at Sansa deep in thought. “Are you ready for her?”

Sansa’s hands shook as she fidgeted with her new dark hair. This wasn’t just anyone, this was family, her mother’s sister. She barely new Lysa as it had been years since they met. Even though Sansa thought her new look was convincing, now for the first time today, she was scared. She could fool strangers, but this woman knew her.

“I think so.”

“No. You either are, or you aren’t. If you’re not ready, I need to know now.” Petyr walked to her and studied her confidence.

Sansa couldn’t calm her nerves. Maybe if she had more time, but this was too soon to meet people she knew. A soft hand cupped her cheek as grey-green eyes bore into hers and she couldn’t lie to him. Sansa slowly shook her head in defeat.

Petyr gave her a half-smile as his thumb caressed her cheek.

“It’s all right. Be honest with me, so I know how to handle things.” He raised his eyebrows and didn’t break eye contact. Sansa smiled weakly and nodded.

“If she demands to see you, just follow my lead.”

Why would Aunt Lysa demand to see her? Sansa was dead. Petyr didn’t explain as he took her by the hand and led her to a door near the dining room. It was his study, and he sat her down at his desk. Petyr rushed, turning on his laptop and pulling out a few random files. The bell could be heard ringing, and clearly, Aunt Lysa wasn’t giving up any time soon.

Petyr didn’t seem the type of man to be anxious. Yes, they agreed it was too soon for her to meet known people, but something made Sansa wonder about his relationship with her aunt. He did say he knew her mother when they were young. Obviously, Aunt Lysa knew him well enough to find his home and that he had been avoiding her of late. What were they to each other that had him in such a rush?

“Remember, you’re my assistant. Play that role, and you’ll be fine. Don’t let her drag you into her madness. She’s a junkie and probably high on God knows what.” Petyr shut the door, and Sansa could hear him at the intercom.

“Lysa, I’m opening the door.”

Several tense seconds passed until Sansa heard the door open to the foyer and the clacking of her aunt’s heels.

“I’m furious at you, Petyr.”

“I can see that.” Petyr’s voice was controlled, yet Sansa could hear an undertone that was bearing its teeth.

“I cannot believe you kept this place a secret from me. What _else_ are you hiding from me?”

Sansa imagined her aunt inspecting his home. If Lysa didn’t know about this place, why was she here? Sansa sat at his desk and had no trouble over-hearing the voices in the next room.

“I wouldn’t call it hiding, I just happen to like my privacy. Which brings to me to ask, why are you here?”

His voice was so calm, but Sansa found it to be far more frightening than outright anger. This was the voice belonging to a coiled up viper, ready to give a deadly strike.

“I followed you from the club," Lysa said as if it were perfectly natural to stalk someone.

Sansa remembered her aunt being a self-centered bitch whenever she bothered to visit. Her husband, Jon, seemed kind enough, but he was very old and didn’t appear to care what his wife did. Sansa never like Aunt Lysa. She was always rude to her mother and acted as if she were so much better than the rest of her family. Jon Arryn was quite wealthy and second only to Robert Baratheon in the Syndicate and Lysa seemed to gloat in her newfound wealth and status.

Her aunt was ridiculous and vane. Lysa wore the tackiest designer clothing, jewelry, and her parfume was always too strong. She looked older than her mother even though she was years younger. The woman caked on her makeup and dressed as if she was Sansa’s age. Her mother’s words rang true.

_Money doesn’t buy class._

“You followed me.” It wasn’t a question as Petyr’s voice dropped – that cool anger seeping through.

“Of course, I did. You won’t take my calls. You’re never at the club. Then I saw you take that tart out shopping today. Do all your whores wear Prada?”

Sansa could hear Lysa walking around the house. “So, where is the little slut? I know she’s here, I saw you both walk in here.”

“The _slut_ … just happens to be my assistant. Thank you very much.”

“Since when did you ever have an assistant?”

“What does it matter? It’s none of your business.”

“You _are_ my business Petyr. You wouldn’t have all this if it weren’t for me. I fucking MADE YOU! I set you up with Jon and…”

“Please, I did this on my own. I run my business, _not_ you. Where would you be without me, hmmm?”

The venom in his voice was terrifying. Sansa made a mental note to never get on Petyr’s shit list.

“Where would you get your precious coke and heroin? You wouldn't have the money that you do without me. The entire fucking Syndicate owes me for not only saving it but also bringing in millions of dollars. Do I get a fucking thank you? No. _You do not own me, Lysa_.”

“You are mine, Petyr. I love you, and I won’t let some gold-digging whore use you. I won’t have it. I’ll go to Jon and tell him about this place… I’ll…”

Suddenly, it was quiet, and after a minute she heard a soft moan. Two things entered Sansa's mind. One was Petyr strangling Lysa and the other… she didn’t even want to think of the other.

Sansa looked at the desk and his laptop. She couldn’t access anything on the computer since he didn’t key in the password. The hard copy file left open was a spreadsheet. As Sansa gazed at it, she realized it was inventory from the nightclub. The alcohol, food, and cigars… how much he had in stock and … dear God, is that what he paid for these items? Almost $30,000 for a box of forty cigars? Sansa couldn’t fathom spending that much for such a thing. At least designer clothes could be worn time and time again. Who smokes a $750  cigar?

“Send that girl back to wherever she came from. All you need is me, my darling.”

Sansa didn’t want to listen anymore for it was making her sick. She didn’t want to visualize her aunt snogging anybody.

“As I said, she is my assistant, and she has work to do. I’m busy tonight, Lysa. How about we meet up downtown tomorrow…”

“NO! I want you now, and I’ll have you now. Where is that little bitch of yours? I want to see with my own eyes!”

Sansa’s heart raced and fussed with her hair. In the dark window, she saw her reflection. She looked too sexy. She didn’t look like an assistant. Sansa pulled her hair up and twisted it, holding it up with a pen. She saw a pair of glasses on his desk and quickly put them on. They seemed to be reading glasses and didn’t hurt her eyes too much. Sansa took a deep breath and started looking through papers as if she’d been working this whole time.

The door burst open as her Aunt Lysa marched in wearing another one of her outrageous outfits. Petyr strolled in slowly after her, his eyes boring into Sansa’s blues. He was calm, and Sansa knew she needed to follow his suit.

“Lysa, this is my assistant, Alayne Stone.” Petyr sat in the chair next to his desk and crossed his legs, observing how this scene would play out.

Sansa dropped her voice a bit and tried to not sound like herself. “Mrs. Arryn. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Don’t play coy with me girl. You’re his secretary? You look like a whore in nice clothes.” Lysa sneered and stared her down.

Sansa knew Lysa was trying to be dominant because she was threatened. She obviously thought Petyr was with a new and much younger woman. Sansa decided to play it cool. Just like the women in the store, she was not going to let her aunt have the upper hand.

“I’m sorry you think so.” She looked to Petyr and hoped he’d play along. “I finished the reports, Mr Baelish. I think you might want to have a second look at the inventory. Either you have a thief or someone isn’t charging for a few items. You’re losing money on the caviar, and especially the Gurkha cigars. $750 a cigar at cost – an increase of ten percent.”

Sansa closed the folder and handed it to Petyr. He did indeed play along when he took it from her hands and flipped through it with a knowing smile.

“Thank you. Finally, someone good with numbers, other than myself. That is, until you move out of the country, of course.”

Petyr didn’t look at Sansa and he was very cool in his manner towards her. He was leading Alayne where to go with every word he spoke. Without instructing her prior to Lysa’s arrival, Petyr was educating her right in front of her aunt on her backstory.

“You expect me to believe this?” Lysa scoffed.

“I don’t really give a fuck, Lysa. Do you want to tell your husband that I had to dismiss Martell’s new assistant because you’re jealous? I’m only training the girl for a few months as a favor before he comes to collect her. Jon was specific that this was meant to be a quiet deal, and that the girl was attractive – who know how Oberyn is. Not to mention, I spent a fair bit of my own money, that I would like compensation for. Cersei isn’t to know about any backdoor deals with the Martells’, who just happen to produce your favorite pass time. That would be an awkward conversation with your husband, wouldn’t it?”

Who was this Martell? Sansa didn’t recognize the name. At least Petyr gave her information to work with, but for now, she kept quiet. Lysa looked between Alayne and Petyr studying their behavior. Sansa wasn't too sure if her aunt was buying it and didn't want to stay around to find out.

“Mr. Baelish, I have already called a cab. I think it’s best if I leave.” Petyr knew it was a lie, but he followed her game. Alayne stood and kept her eyes to the floor, wanting Aunt Lysa to be able to save face as she walked to the office door.

“Stop,” Lysa commanded, and Sansa froze in fear. Her aunt crossed the room and circled Alayne. “Where are you from?”

Without missing a beat, “Old Town. I always wanted to come to the big city.”

“Figures. All the gold-digging slags seem to come from the West. You should ban those Tyrells from your establishment, Petyr. Nothing but trash.” Lysa didn’t let Alayne pass when she tried go around the woman. “There’s something about you, girl and I can’t place it. Granted, I don’t make it a point to associate with poor, trashy whores. Typical that you’re going to Dorne. You’ll be his wife’s mistress in a week.”

Petyr stepped in, “Lysa, have a drink with me and allow me to make it up to you.” He put on that mask of his and became a completely different man. “You’re right, I’ve been absolutely terrible to you lately. I know I’ve been busy, but that’s not an excuse.”

That charm of his, Sansa needed to learn that. In one quick moment, Petyr made Lysa feel like she was his whole world.

“Oh, you are in trouble. I expect you to fully make it up to me tonight.” Sansa watched as her aunt groped him in a way that made her want to gag. “Take me upstairs and fuck me right now.”

Petyr grunted, “Nothing would please me more.”

Sansa thought it best to get out of here quick and walked briskly to the front door. She didn’t know where she could go. Petyr drove, and Sansa didn’t have any money. It didn’t matter, she wanted out of this house.

She did not want to witness her aunt get it on with Petyr. Sansa almost felt bad for him… _almost_. Whatever relationship he had with Lysa at one point had come back to bite him in the arse. Maybe he wasn’t so perfect in his game after all. Petyr had used her aunt to some extent, but he appeared to have underestimated her.

Before Sansa opened the door to head outside, Petyr caught up with her and glanced back at Lysa who was waiting impatiently.

“Give the whore some money so she can get out of here already.” Petyr had apparently left Lysa’s side saying he needed to give Alayne money to get back to the city.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Sansa whispered.

“Go around the house. Don’t use the patio. There is a cabana by the pool. It’s covered, and she won’t see you. There are towels and even some blankets there along with a small bar. Stay there until I come for you. It’s not too chilly out, you should be fine for a little while.”

A look of disgust came over his face. “I need to… finish up some business. Believe me, it won’t take long.”

Sansa wanted to vomit. Her face must have shown her distaste for the idea because he chuckled a little. When she looked up at him, there was something in Petyr’s eyes that stilled her breath.

“I’ll just have to pretend she’s someone else. Perhaps a lovely girl I know that isn’t wearing any panties right now.” His voice was deep and sultry. Sansa didn’t know how he did it. Petyr was going to fuck her aunt in a moment, the idea was revolting, but at the same time, he was making her quiver in the doorway.

“I meant to take these back. You don’t want her to see it in your pocket.”

Sansa slowly drew her panties from inside his jacket, but he grabbed her hand. Petyr’s soft fingers took the lacy garment away and brought it up to his nose inhaling deeply. His eyes were black with desire, and Sansa couldn’t handle the idea that he liked the scent of her.

Petyr groaned and whispered in her ear, “You’ll get these back when you want them wet again… and only then.”

With that, Petyr turned and shut the door leaving Sansa completely shocked and speechless outside. She did as he said and walked around the back end of the house to where the pool and cabana were located. She didn’t dare use the patio in case her aunt would see. There were too many windows, and there was nowhere to hide. She slipped inside, finding the cabana quite comfortable. There were a few cashmere blankets and indeed a little bar. Sansa looked inside and found hard liquor, wine, and a few beers.

The windows must have been open, for she could hear Aunt Lysa’s shrill laughter. Ugh, she was either drunk or high again. Sansa experienced enough of her aunt on drugs to tell when she was rarely sober. Good Lord, Sansa needed a drink. The very thought of them fucking was enough to make her sick.

“No more coke. I’m not going to tell your husband you died here. I’ll have to dump your body in the bay.” Sansa heard Petyr’s irritated voice from the upstairs windows. Sansa peeked through the curtains in the cabana and could see soft light from the balcony that must be his bedroom.

“I just want to feel sexy for you. Coke makes sex so much better. I want you to fuck my brains out tonight,” her aunt laughed.

God, she was going to hear everything, Sansa shuddered. She grabbed the rum and a can of coke. She needed some shots if she was going to get through this. Sansa wrapped the soft blanket around her and lay back in the lounge chair. It wasn’t too cold considering how far south Kings Landing was, but it was chilly enough at night in a thin silk dress.

“Ugh, yesss. Oh, Petyr, I love your body. You can’t imagine what it’s like to fuck an old man.”

“Shhh…don’t speak.”

“Will you go down on me? Please?” Lysa whined pathetically.

“You _know_ I hate it. Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Sansa covered her mouth, afraid that she would laugh out loud. Now, she really did feel bad for Petyr. Sansa couldn’t imagine having to pretend to be turned on when you were actually revolted instead. Girls could fake it well enough, but she never thought about men having to fake it. What if they couldn’t get it up? Did they just fantasize about something or someone else the whole time?

_I’ll just have to pretend she’s someone else. Perhaps a lovely girl I know that isn’t wearing any panties right now…_

Oh God.

Then she could hear them and couldn’t stop listening out of morbid curiosity.

“Oh my fucking God. Petyr, you feel so good,” her aunt moaned. “Fuck me, oh fuck me hard!”

Aunt Lysa moaned and screamed for him. Her wailing could be heard from across the bay, Sansa laughed. Lysa was last person Sansa would ever want to have knowledge of her sexual Olympics. The way she screamed in pleasure, Petyr must have been giving it to her good.

Amid her screams, Sansa heard Petyr’s voice only once, “Is this what you wanted? Is it?”

His tone was not that of a man who was enjoying himself. Sansa thought all men enjoyed sex no matter what, but Petyr sounded as if he hated every moment.

“Oh, yes, yes! Oh, Petyr, fuck me harder! Oh my God, YESSSSSS!” Lysa’s high-pitched shriek was so loud; Sansa thought dogs could hear it.

Sansa rolled her eyes, but there was something that burned in her stomach. That feeling knotted up her insides, and she took a few more shots. Why was Sansa suddenly angry? Who cares who he fucks? He was nothing to her but a teacher, her new boss.

Sansa could feel the effects of the rum, and her mind kept running back to the dressing room that afternoon. The way Petyr touched her, breathed against her skin… when his finger brushed against her lace-covered sex.

She was actually jealous of her aunt right now. Lysa’s screams were ridiculous, but clearly, he was fucking her to one hell of an orgasm. Sansa didn’t want to think about this or him. She didn’t want him. Petyr was too old for her anyway and too much trouble. Getting involved with a man like him was dangerous.

Sansa pulled the blanket up around her and closed her eyes for a moment. Soon, Aunt Lysa would surely leave, and Petyr would take Sansa home. _Home_. His little secret apartment above the club was now home. Dear God, what had she gotten herself into?

Sansa’s confusion drifted away with the lull of the rum and salty breeze from the bay. She must have fallen asleep for the next thing she knew, pale light from the horizon was peeking through the curtains as her eyes fluttered open.

She was still lying on the lounge covered with the blanket, but to her shock, Petyr was sitting on the wooden floor next to her. He was sitting on a cushion with his back against her lounge chair. Petyr’s head was resting to the side, almost touching her bare legs. His eyes were closed, and Sansa sensed he was fast asleep.

In his hand, was a short glass and a whiskey bottle by his leg along with an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Petyr was still dressed in yesterday’s black suit, but now it was rumpled, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and Lysa’s red lipstick smeared on his jaw.

Sansa leaned up and watched him as he slept. Petyr’s hair was a mess, and he needed a shave. The pale sunlight streamed through the curtains playin on his face. He had faint lines on his forehead and around his eyes, but Petyr still looked good for his age. He wasn’t fat, or flabby but instead lean and fit. Sansa remembered what Petyr looked like that morning in the apartment when he wore nothing but his black briefs. Aunt Lysa was right; he did have a nice body on him. Sansa never cared for the big muscles that all guys her age thought were sexy to all girls.

She pondered what it would be like to kiss or have sex with such a man… an experienced man and not a boy. Sansa had only dated boys her age before. The only experience she had was fumbled groping in cars along with wet and sloppy kissing. Joffrey tried to have sex with her once, but she got scared and ran off. She didn’t love him but not only that; she didn’t want someone like him to be her first.

Sansa wasn’t stupid. She knew people didn’t have sex for love. That only happened in movies. At the very least, she didn’t want to regret it, and with Joffrey, she would have regretted every moment.

She heard a small sigh escape Petyr’s lips. Sansa leaned closer and could smell her aunt’s strong parfume on him, making her wince. Petyr had handsome features and looked so peaceful as he slept. His face was completely relaxed, and she could study him while he was unaware. Sansa’s hand reached out to touch his hair, and suddenly yelped.

Petyr’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist automatically. She saw his eyes were now open and watching her.

“What are you doing?” His voice was groggy from sleep and too much whiskey.

“I was going to wake you,” she lied.

Petyr grunted and sat up, stretching his back. It couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping like that, and she wondered how long he had been out here with her. Sansa just remembered her aunt and guessed she must have left before Petyr came out here.

“I see you had a little party out here while I was working.” It was a half-arsed attempt at humor but the look on his face was stoic. “I thought I’d join you, but you were already asleep.”

Petyr stood up slowly and stared at her for a moment smiling sadly. “Were you cold last night?”

All Sansa could do was shake her head. She didn’t know what to say to him. He held his hand out to her, and she took it helping her up. They walked back to the house in silence. Petyr opened the patio door for her and led her to the kitchen.

“Help yourself. I’m afraid I’m not hungry. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower and wash last night off me. Then I’ll take you home.” Petyr left her in the kitchen, and Sansa was dumbfounded at the man she met this morning.

Some time later, as Sansa ate a croissant and fruit, she spied him trotting down the stairs like a new man. Petyr was showered, shaved and freshly dressed acting as if nothing had happened. As he said, he had literally washed off last night.

“Ready to go?”

Petyr really wasn’t asking as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. Sansa picked up her handbag and quickly slipped on her shoes by the time he was already walking through the garden. She caught up with him as he waited by the car with the door open.

The entire ride back to the city was deadly quiet. Petyr never spoke, and she didn’t know what to say anyway. What would they even talk about right now? Sansa felt it was better to let it go. Every time she chanced a quick look at him while he drove, his face was stone. Petyr’s jaw was set, and she couldn’t see his eyes past the sunglasses. His whole demeanor said to leave him alone.

Petyr walked her to the apartment and set down all the shopping bags from yesterday on the bed.

“The rest will arrive in a few days, but I’ll be back before then.” He turned to leave and Sansa grabbed his hand.

“You’re leaving me again? But… but when will I start working, when will you teach me how to…”

Petyr leaned in and kissed her. His mouth was sweet and tasted like mint. His fingers sifted through her lengthy, black hair as he held her the back of her neck, holding her to him. Just as she sighed into his mouth, he pulled away.

“I’ll return before long. There is a job I need to take care of. When I come back, we’ll begin.” His brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Petyr let his other hand trail along the hem of her skirt touching her bare thigh.

“And I’ll try not to think about how much I want to bury my face between your legs. But I suppose I just have to keep this instead."

Petyr had her lacy panties from yesterday in his hand and gave her a wicked grin as he tucked it back in his breast pocket. Sansa’s lips were still tingling as he shut the door and left her alone once again.

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

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Sansa slowly unpacked all of her new things onto the bed. A month ago, she would have been giddy with excitement over all the fabulous clothes, bath products, and makeup, but now all she could think about was how she screwed up last night.

The makeover made her feel beautiful, and Sansa had to admit she liked that someone spent a lot of money on her. Maybe she was a little selfish after all. Petyr had turned her into this stunning woman in one day, then it all fell apart in one night.

The confidence Sansa felt in the shop when she flirted and shocked the saleswomen died just as fast in front of her Aunt Lysa. If she couldn’t lie convincingly in front of her, how would she be able to fake it with Joffrey, Cersei or anyone else? Petyr said it had to be more than just playing dress-up. It was also what was underneath that mattered, and he wasn’t just speaking of her undergarments.

Petyr asked Sansa if she was ready, and she knew she wasn’t. Sansa saw him smile a little at her first bluff, yet they both knew Lysa had followed them all day. Lysa was a coke head and mad to boot, but she wasn’t stupid. Sansa underestimated her big time.

Aunt Lysa was more than infatuated with Petyr and went to such lengths as stalking him, it seemed. Overhearing their conversation, Lysa frequently called him, came to the club, as he had been clearly avoiding her. Lysa said she helped him get to where he was now and Sansa couldn’t help but wonder what kind of relationship they had once.

Maybe that’s why Petyr tried to embellish a story so quickly thinking it would placate her aunt. Petyr was attempting to protect Sansa against her aunt and without really talking about the nature of their relationship and getting the lies straight beforehand, it almost came tumbling down. Petyr saved it by appealing to Lysa’s base desires. Him.

God, she could still hear her aunt squealing in pleasure. An image of her aunt in her hideous dress that was two sizes too small, pound of makeup and stinky parfume in the throes of passion while Petyr fucked her made Sansa shudder. The only thing that made her smile a bit was that he obviously did not enjoy it.

It was a strange feeling knowing the only reason he took Lysa to bed was to take attention off of Sansa. Finding him asleep next to her this morning was another shock. Petyr’s whole personality was different. He was solemn, hungover and a bit sad. Sansa mulled over what must have happened while she slept. Lysa left at some point when Petyr came outside to find her asleep. So, he stayed up drinking and smoking for some time based on the near-empty bottle and tray full of cigarette butts. Either fucking her aunt was indeed a terrible endurance, or something else was bothering him.

Sansa touched her lips. Petyr actually kissed her. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him, and it surprised her. Sansa didn’t know what to expect from someone like him. It wasn’t so much forceful, but unexpected. Just when Sansa started to like it, he pulled away. Petyr had been brooding all morning that when his mouth took hers, she didn’t know what to do or think. He was back to his flirtatious self and left her wanting yet again.

She hung her new clothes next to his in the wardrobe and then took over his bathroom. _A few days_ , Petyr said… a few more days she would be stuck here alone with only her thoughts for company. Suddenly, a light buzzing was coming from somewhere on the bed. It was her handbag and Sansa pulled out the mobile Petyr gave her. He had sent her a few messages with attachments.

_Sweetling,_

_Look over these in the meantime. You will need to gain some insight into the business, the Syndicate, and your family’s former role. The more knowledgeable you are, the better. After last night, I feel that I can trust you with some of this information. We cannot work together if there is no trust. I expect you to be prepared by my return._

Petyr didn’t need to leave his name at the end. Who else would contact her on this mobile? No one but Petyr had ever called her _Sweetling_ , either.

Petyr had attached several files to be loaded onto his computer that she could study. Sansa transferred the data over and opened each file. This was going to be quite a read, she thought. She made herself a bite to eat and sat down in his chair.

True to his word, Petyr had information of each of the houses, their holdings, who held what position of power, their strengths, weaknesses – Achilles heel so to speak. Many of them frequented the Mockingbird for trade, deals, sex, and plenty of drugs. Petyr had tabs on them all, but Sansa felt that he only had given her a taste of what he wanted her to know. She could only imagine how much dirt he had on these people. Petyr was in the middle of it all and playing them all against each other, it appeared. He was right; he was trusting her with something that could hurt him, but why?

Looking over the file regarding the Starks, Sansa could see how much he knew about her grandfather, late uncle and her father and their dealings within the Syndicate. They dealt mainly in guns, and as a whole, the Starks were used as the muscle within the business. There was data on all her siblings and then her mother and aunt in particular. The information on Lysa wasn’t kind. It was basically a list of every single lousy trait, relationship and problems she had. Petyr seemed to have capitalized on Lysa marrying Jon Arryn. He was able to get in close to the head of that house, and it apparently was a fruitful connection. He listed all of Lysa’s preferred drugs and vices and Sansa’s eyes boggled.

Nothing derogatory was noted about her mother except that Petyr seemed to know she made enemies with Cersei and the Boltons and that she and Lysa did not have a good relationship. Petyr knew that her mother had asked for Lysa's, or more importantly, her husband's help in leaving the Syndicate and Lysa refused to help her sister and family. Most likely Lysa told Petyr, she suspected. Sansa's hatred grew towards her aunt and hoped some despicable end would come her way.

Sansa gazed over her siblings again. Petyr had each of them down to a science. How would he know such things, they had never met him before. She looked at her name and wondered why he would emphasize that she was very much like her mother.

Petyr left her with more questions than answers. She would let that go for now. Sansa opened files on the Mockingbird. He obviously liked how she used that information well last night. If she were to be his assistant, she would most likely need to know certain aspects of his business. He kept it simple with necessary inventory, names of regulars and VIPs and to what house they belonged, personal data and profiles on his girls and the rest of his employees. She would need to know who they were and what they did.

Sansa worried about meeting Olyvar. This man was still one of Petyr’s best gigolos, but he helped run the club when Petyr was gone on other jobs. She would need to be very careful around him. Scanning over a simplified calendar, Sansa saw Cersei booked her annual masquerade ball at the Mockingbird instead of the Lannister home due to Joffrey liking the club better.

Oberyn Martell was coming well before that and that Petyr had made plans for the club to have amenities just for him. Sansa thought she heard Martell’s name once before but couldn’t place him. He would have been another unsavory character her father would have never allowed her or her siblings be near. Dorne House was south of the border and dealt primarily in drugs. They were a big family, but not technically considered within the Syndicate like the rest, but because they were so profitable, they were kept in the loop as far as business deals.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if Petyr was negotiating many of these deals. If he was spending money to please the Martells, there must be an excellent profit coming Petyr’s way for taking such pains to keep the man happy while he was here.

The files on the Lannisters and Baratheons were kept last. There was quite a bit of dirt on Robert Baratheon. Before Petyr had taken over finances, Robert was running the Syndicate into the ground with bad deals and worse, houses warring with each other. Petyr noted that he didn’t think Robert’s death was an accident but that one of the houses decided to take him out.

Petyr had loads of information on Cersei’s family and Sansa sat wide-eyed at it all. Cersei’s father, Tywin was the brains of the House, and when he died, everything else went to Cersei and Joffrey. Petyr’s notes had all of their holdings and finances. He seemed to be very interested in everything this house did.

Robert was a regular at the club and mainly used the brothel. Petyr suggested that the children were possibly not even Robert’s at all. There were photos of Cersei and her brother in rather compromising positions, and Sansa couldn’t believe her eyes. Joffrey looked like his so-called uncle. Actually, all of their children looked like their mother and uncle. None of them had any of the father in them.

Shit, she had kissed Joffrey, and he even fondled her once. The thought made her sick. Joffrey was an incestuous bastard as far as Petyr’s guess. He had quite a list on him as well, and it made Sansa’s stomach turn. Killing her family wasn’t the only horrible thing he ever did. Joffrey had tortured some of Petyr’s girls, he was known to be bi-polar to the extreme and that his mother gave him everything he wanted. He had a terrible temper and violent streak, taking sick enjoyment in hurting others.

God, she could have been married to that! Sansa understood why her parents put a stop to it and in so doing, set a massive target on their family for insulting the Lannisters. Sansa wondered how much of this her parents could have known. Petyr said he knew her mother. Did he tell her what he knew? He seemed to know everything about everybody as it was.

Sansa’s head hurt. She didn’t know how to take all this information in. She understood why her father wanted out. If they killed her family, what would they do to her if they found out she, Sansa, was still alive?

She wasn’t sure why Petyr would give her such information that could be used against him, but she saw it through his eyes. He had more on her than she did on him. Petyr knew she couldn’t risk being found out by anyone in the Syndicate. They would probably kill him for aiding her. He was taking a significant risk in helping her, and in turn, she couldn’t use this information to backstab him either. Who would she go to? Aunt Lysa? Hell, she wouldn’t think twice about turning her only niece over to Cersei and Joffrey.

Petyr said it didn’t serve him to sell her out and Sansa really believed him. He had some other game going, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. He was clearly upset with the Syndicate when he and Lysa were arguing last night. Maybe he was tired of being used and wanted out too? Perhaps the Lannisters were a mutual enemy, and taking them out benefited him as much as revenge suited Sansa.

Sansa couldn’t believe how fast the following days went by. She studied and took advantage of the time to put together a believable act. Many times Sansa faced the mirror and watched herself speaking as Alayne. She needed to be this woman inside and out. Did Sansa fidget, play with her hands, hair? Did she look away often when talking? Sansa had watched so many movies with female spies, femme fatales and such.

They had a confident composure Alayne was missing. She needed to be calm and cool – know who she was speaking with and how to handle them. It was a game. Sansa needed to be an actress of sorts. Alayne required to fit into this dark world that Petyr lived in. Sansa was gone. _Dead_. This woman was Petyr’s right hand and in control.

Sansa thought of places they could have met where he would have hired her. The story laid on Lysa wasn’t good enough. It was in haste and ill-planned. They gambled on her being stupid and drugged up and it only worked because of Petyr’s seduction. Sansa didn't know if she would meet her aunt again, but if she did, everything needed to be perfect. Petyr couldn't protect her all the time.

_These horrible people need to pay for what they did._

She needed to remember why she was here and why she was doing this. This was a dangerous game she was going to play and must have her wits about her. No more girlish rubbish and silliness. If Sansa was going to do this, she had to be severe and level headed and ready to do what must be done.

When Petyr returned, she would give him her ideas, and as he said, they would begin.

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

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It was early morning when Sansa heard her mobile ringing. Her eyes winced at the bright screen that glowed in the darkened room. It was Petyr. He wanted her dressed appropriately and to meet him in the second-floor office by nine. The passcode to the lift was given for her own access.

Sansa looked at the time. She had a couple hours to spare. It would be enough time to get ready and go over the data he wanted her to learn. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she was a bit nervous like the first day of a new job or going on a date with a boy she really liked. Sansa wanted to make this work and spent a few minutes meditating to get into her new character.

_It’s a role. Let your fears and past mistakes go. Don’t let anyone get to you. Never let your guard down. Do not trust anyone. Do not underestimate your enemies. You can do this. You are stronger than they think you are. This is for your family. This is for you._

It was her mantra that she kept repeating to herself. It calmed her nerves allowing her to relax. Sansa decided this was something she needed to do every day. It kept her focused, and whenever she doubted or feared, she would repeat it again in her mind until the negative feelings passed.

Sansa chose the black sheath dress and tied a silk scarf around her neck. She pulled her dark tresses up into a messy bun and decided on natural makeup. Alayne wanted to look Petyr’s equal in appearance and manner. She was not to be messed with or second-guessed in his employees’ eyes. The black hair in the updo, along with the dress made her look older than her years. Sansa still couldn’t get over how different she appeared now.

_No. Stop that. This is how you look and act. Sansa doesn’t belong here. Alayne does. You are Alayne now._

Sansa slipped on her heels and squared her shoulders, straightening her posture. Twisting the doorknob, she took a deep breath.

_Composure._

With each step she took, Alayne felt more in character. She knew Petyr was probably the only person she was meeting with right now, but she didn’t know for sure. Plus, Sansa wanted to show him she was ready to play.

At the soft ping, the lift doors opened to the second floor. Sansa had yet to see this level and didn’t know what to expect or who could be observing her. She walked down the hallway and noticed the rooms. The décor was similar to the private games and meeting rooms downstairs. Polished wood and luxurious jewel tones spanned the corridor while her heels lightly sunk into the plush carpet. Quiet and privacy it screamed.

These were the private rooms used by his whores to entertain clients. They were empty now and Sansa wondered what time they usually arrived to work. Each room was unique in its own way, probably tailored to the girl that used it. Petyr had notes stating the ‘tastes’ and ‘vices’ of his clients and Sansa didn’t want to imagine what went on in these rooms.

His clients weren’t just men either. There were quite a few women that were regulars here. Lonely wives and dissatisfied partners found what they were longing for… _for a price_. Sansa still turned up her nose at this kind of work. She couldn’t fathom how people could sell themselves, their bodies and perform such debauchery to perfect strangers. She would never understand this age-old profession.

Around the corner, Sansa saw an open door with soft lighting from inside. She stood tall and entered the room. It looked more like an old Victorian study than an office for a nightclub and brothel. Rich mahogany wood on the walls and another stunning Persian rug laid out that spanned almost over the entire hardwood floor. Petyr seemed to like Eastern decor as she observed in his house.

 His desk looked to be hand-carved. Everything in the room felt like it was from a different era except for the modern equipment that took up almost one whole wall. A large flat screen had numerous security camera footage screening in real time. Sansa could see that the lower club was empty and dark. Except for the empty second-floor hallway she just walked through, none of the rooms seemed to be on camera.

 _Privacy_. Petyrs clients wouldn’t want to be recorded in the act, of course. The cameras outside showed a few people and cars moving by but other than that, nothing eventful.

On Petyr’s desk, his laptop was open with surrounding paperwork stacked neatly. A large French press was steeping a rich scented coffee with two cups waiting to be filled. Expense reports were all that she could see when running water was heard from behind a closed door on the adjacent wall. The door suddenly opened, revealing a small bathroom and Petyr drying his hands on a towel.

“Good morning.” His eyes took her in from head to toe, but Sansa wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything by his gaze. “You look lovely. Wise choice.”

“Thank you.” She wanted to sound mature and professional while waiting for his lead.

“Sit down. Do you drink coffee? I tend to brew mine fairly strong, but there is cream and sugar if you prefer.” Petyr sat and pressed the sieve to the bottom, straining the coffee grounds, and poured the steaming liquid into the two cups.

Petyr took his coffee black, she noted, as she added a little cream and sugar to hers. A slight smirk told her he figured as much just as he guessed at how she took her tea.

“So Alayne, what have you been doing with yourself the past few days?”

This was the game. She was no longer Sansa to him now either. They must keep up appearances from the start just in case anyone was to witness the charade.

Sansa took a sip of her coffee, and it was indeed very strong. “I studied the files you gave me, and I feel that I have a good grasp of… the goings-on here and the people. Once I put faces to names, it should be easier.”

“Are you going to have any issues with the ‘goings-on’ of my business? If so, you better tell me now. I can’t afford to have you shocked or appalled. You need to be seen as being entirely at ease with everything here.”

Petyr drank his coffee while his eyes watched her every move, looking for weakness.

“No. Not unless… well, there is one thing I want to know.”

His eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Your… _girls_. Are they all willing participants? They are not forced to – ”

“Fuck everyone that walks in here?” Petyr smiled, but Sansa didn’t like it one bit. “Every person that works for me is willing and fully understands their role. I do not deal in human trafficking if that is what you are inferring. Believe me, my _sex workers_ are paid very well. I’ve had to turn many away because this is where they know the money is made. The Mockingbird is the best and most expensive club and brothel in the city, not some basement whorehouse. I personally chose every person that works here, yourself included I might add.”

Sansa almost wanted to say she didn’t want to work here but kept silent. She knew what she was getting into and in a way, yes; he did choose her that night when he saved her life.

“You can ask the girls if you like when you meet them. Unless you truly do not trust me, then I’d say this meeting is over.”

Sansa kept her cool. Petyr was testing her, she wagered.

“Oh, no. I believe you.” She remembered the rooms and asked, “Do they keep their rooms a certain way, or do you choose what they do for clients? Do they live here?”

“This is not a boarding house. They come here to work and leave. They are required to properly maintain their rooms. I choose the men and women for their unique talents and give them a bit of license for creativity. Many of my clients are looking for a particular ‘something,’ and I try to cater to their tastes… within reason. There isn’t anyone under the age of eighteen that works here.”

Sansa thought she should be appalled, but eighteen was the legal age, sexually to say the least, but it still didn’t feel right. She couldn’t imagine a girl Arya’s age fucking for money. Sansa had never been in a position at that age to see this a potential job. Who knows what walks of life these girls came from.

“You still think it’s too young?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should wipe the look of shock off your face if you knew how many times clients wanted a child, _and I do mean a child_. I even had a man that wanted a fresh corpse once…”

Sansa swallowed, and her eyes must have betrayed her disgust.

“There, you see. That, right there, is where you just flinched. It is not uncommon to have such requests from wealthy and eccentric people. They think their money buys them anything and everything. And depending on who the dealer is, they can get it. However, I have to draw the line somewhere. No matter what is revealed to you, you cannot drop your poker face, do you understand?”

Petyr’s eyes bored into Sansa, willing her to see his point of view. No matter how much a person disgusted her, she had to smile and play it safe. She couldn’t let them witness any fear, loathing, uncertainty… none of it. Alayne’s face, body language, and instant reaction had to be expected and controlled. Now that Sansa knew more about Joffrey, it would be harder for her to not to feel complete revulsion for him.

As much as she would never want him to touch, speak, or even breath on her, Alayne couldn’t let that show, or her cover would be blown. Petyr gave her that information just for this reason –  control your instincts to do what needed to be done. Sansa had to know just what kind of monster he was and to get close to him; she’d have to seduce him. The thought was revolting, but she had to push those feelings aside if she wanted him dead.

Petyr detested Lysa and yet took her to bed. He did it, not for himself, but for Sansa’s sake. That’s what you needed to do even if you hated the person. However, Sansa prayed she wouldn’t have to go that far with Joffrey. She was still a virgin and didn’t even know how to pretend she was a professional. How was Alayne going to learn that? Did Petyr intend on teaching her that too? Sansa didn’t want to even think about it.

“Yes, I understand. Keep a straight face, expecting the worst from humans as a whole.”

Petyr leaned back in his chair. “This world is unjust, cruel, and downright deplorable with occasional moments of bliss. Expect the unexpected at all times. Never trust anyone. No one is your friend.”

“Not even you?”

Petyr smirked and studied her. “Friendship is nothing, if not, mendacity. When it comes down to the barest of all instincts, they will be selfish and save themselves and sell you to the highest bidder. The only true friend you have is yourself.”

“So love is just as pointless.” Sansa held his gaze and didn’t break contact.

“Love is a fairytale. Lysa thinks she loves me, and look where it got her. You probably thought you loved Joffrey once and now you despise him…”

“My parents loved each other,” she interrupted.

Petyr stiffened, catching him off guard. He _flinched_ , as he called it. Just as quickly as it happened, he recovered. Sansa was sure she saw it. There must be something about him and her parents after all.

“And unfortunately, they’re dead.” Petyr sipped his coffee and regained his control. “Love can blind and distract you from your purpose. You can lose your logic and reason and make mistakes. If you want to survive, you cannot afford to love.”

Petyr had put on a mask, and Sansa couldn’t read him anymore. What had happened to him, she wondered? Everything about him was an enigma. Petyr worked up the ladder and became very successful. He mingled in a world that was very dangerous that made you stay alert and probably paranoid in those around you. Petyr didn’t trust, he didn’t love; he didn’t seem to have real friends. Petyr, with all his wealth and power, appeared to be a very lonely man. His house, although beautiful, was cold. There was no life in it. It seemed that he spent all his time working, and for what?

Sansa couldn’t take the time now to delve into what made Petyr tick. That would detract from her goal. He was here to aid her and nothing more. She needed to put him back in that place of teacher and business partner and forget about him on a personal level.

 _He is not your friend_.

“Come over here,” he softly commanded.

Sansa stood up and walked around his desk, dragging her chair with her. She sat next to him, and he pulled up a picture of Oberyn Martell on his laptop.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, Oberyn Martell.”

“He is coming here in a few days, and I’ve ordered quite a bit of amenities just for his stay. He is a special client of mine that I make a point of taking excellent care of him. He loves beauty, and I’m sure he’ll take an interest in you…”

Sansa gasped, “You don’t expect me to…”

“ _No_. He will try. He is known for his –   _charm_. Just make sure that you do not insult him. If he is overly persistent, come find me, and I’ll find an expensive distraction for him.”

Sansa scanned over the expense reports on his desk. Petyr was buying specific alcohol, food, and cigars and guessed that these were things the Dornish man fancied. She bet Petyr was making an excellent profit if this was the kind of money he was willing to spend.

“Why spend so much on one man?” Sansa pondered if Petyr would tell her the nature of Martell’s visit to Kings Landing.

“Because he makes me loads of money.”

That answered that. Petyr wasn’t about to divulge anything on his dealings with the Houses. Why would he tell a girl he barely knew such details? Sansa could feel his eyes on her that she didn’t dare look at him.

“After the other night, I realized that I underestimated your aunt. We will need to be extremely careful of her from now on. If I know she will be at the club, I do not want you to be seen. It would be better if we keep the two of you apart.” Petyr sat back in his chair and fingered his coffee cup. “I knew she was a jealous woman, but I didn’t factor in that she’d go as far as stalking and taking such an interest in you. That doesn’t bode well for either of us. I’ll have to find something to occupy her time.”

The chill in his voice made her shiver. Sansa didn’t want to know what he had planned for Aunt Lysa.

“Ah! Which reminds me.” He opened the drawer to his desk. “I have a gift for you.” Petyr pulled out a small case and opened it. Glasses were the last thing Sansa was expecting to see.

“I don’t wear glasses, though.”

“You do now. In my study, you improvised very well. The glasses do help hide your face a little and cliché as it may be, gives you a bit of age and well – maturity.”

Petyr didn’t wait for Sansa’s approval as he placed the glasses on her face. The frames were tortoise shell brown and thick. It would take some getting used to. The glass lenses were crystal clear and didn’t affect her vision at all.

“I feel like Clark Kent.”

Petyr chuckled, and Sansa couldn’t help but like the sound of his laugh.

“We’ll find out what kind of Supergirl you really are, I’m sure.” Sansa wanted a mirror, but all she could see was Petyr’s appraising eyes. “Yes, it suits you very well. Professional and less – ingénue if I may say so.”

“So, in what capacity…. am I just your silent personal assistant or do I actually work here?” Sansa drank her coffee and crossed her legs, never letting her eyes leave his.

“I will introduce you as more as my personal assistant. Olyvar knows I have other business outside the club, so it won’t be too much of a surprise, I think. He’ll probably question why I went with a young girl, but I’ll handle that. If he asks you anything of that sort, tell him to deal with me. That should shut him up. Don’t get into unnecessary conversations with anyone here. You don’t want more attention than you’re undoubtedly going to receive. If anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me.”

Petyr smiled to himself. “The girls have a tendency to get a little defensive whenever a new girl is introduced, but it will blow over.”

“But I’m not one of _those_ girls. I won’t be doing anything like that, right?” Sansa’s fears were bubbling up again as she tried to squash it back down.

“No. It wouldn’t hurt you to learn a thing or two, though. A virgin is hardly experienced in matters of seduction, don’t you think? Soon you will need to attract Joffrey’s eye, and you will need to be something he wants in order to get close to him. I know his taste and the virginal secretary isn’t it.” A wicked grin played on his lips while Sansa debated on her next move.

She gently set down her coffee upon the desk. Taking off the glasses, she moved from her chair to sit on Petyr’s thigh cozying up to him. His face was only inches away as he watched her very carefully. Petyr didn’t move or touch her when she breathed into his ear.

“What makes you think I’m a virgin and inexperienced?” Sansa played with the collar of his shirt.

“This.”

Petyr’s hand moved up her thigh like lightening and roughly cupped her silk covered mound. Immediately, Sansa’s legs clamped trapping his hand in shock as she tried to move away. His free arm locked her to him as she struggled to push his hand away from under her skirt.

“Don’t play with _me_ , sweetling. I know my trade.” Petyr released her as she moved back to the other chair exasperated. “We've already played this game, and I know exactly who and what you are.”

Sansa tried to calm down and regain her composure once again.

“Relax. You’re not going to whore yourself out, but you will need to learn how the other girls do it and copy it. You will need to observe what Joffrey likes and become that. Once you have him interested, he will not rest until he has you. That’s when you strike.”

Petyr tilted her chin towards him, “I have two rules that you are never to break. One. Do not lie to me, _ever_. Two. Betray me, and you’ll wish I never saved you.”

Petyr stood, straightening his shirt. "Now, let me show you around the club while we still have privacy."

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

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Sansa pulled herself together and followed Petyr out of the office into the hallway. He was waiting patiently and holding a tablet by the open door of one of the girl’s rooms beckoning her inside. The décor was very feminine, as Sansa looked around.

“This room belongs to Violet. Some men like her innocent and girlish persona. She looks much younger than she actually is. It’s not uncommon to see her in pigtails and clothes fit for a ten-year-old.”

Sansa kept her cool knowing Petyr was watching her every move.

“So, you don’t have girls under the age of eighteen, but it doesn’t stop them from playing a child, is what you’re saying.” Sansa looked through the costumes this woman had in her wardrobe and couldn’t believe a man thought this was sexually attractive.

“As I said, I try to give them what they want… within reason. If she is willing to play that character, then so be it. She makes very good money at it. When my ladies are downstairs working in the club, they are ladies. Up here, they can be whatever the client wants.”

Petyr walked out the door and across the hall to another room. Sansa followed, but the next room made her pause in the doorway.

“This is Gabrielle. Let’s just say, she’s up for anything.”

 _Anything,_ was putting it mildly. This room looked like a torture chamber from medieval times. On one wall hung whips, paddles, feathers, handcuffs, and items Sansa couldn’t even begin to wonder what they were used for. There was an odd-looking swing in the corner, some kind of weird angled bench, and her bed was outfitted with all sorts of silk ropes and strange things.

“Do men really like this kind of thing?” Sansa wasn’t about to touch one damn thing in this room.

“Some like to be dominated, and others like to be the master.” Petyr gazed at her thoughtfully, “I’m betting Joffrey tried to dominate you, didn’t he?”

Sansa couldn’t look at him, but she knew she couldn’t lie to him either for he already seemed to know.

“He… “ she swallowed and didn’t know how to say it. She never even told her parents. Sansa remembered one night kissing Joffrey. He was terrible and rather sloppy. He was more focused on shoving his tongue down her throat. Joffrey had groped her breasts and tried to unbutton her pants, but when she attempted to stop him, he only pushed her down. Sansa shoved the memory away. She was not that girl anymore. Petyr dominated her in a way that didn’t give her any fear. Not fear of him but more of how she liked it when he touched and kissed her.

_However, Petyr is an experienced man, whereas Joffrey is only a fuckwit boy._

“He hurt you,” his voice whispered behind her ear. Sansa didn’t realize he closed the distance between them. His tone was gentle and soothing, and for some odd reason, she felt at ease with Petyr again.

“No, not really. He was only… very insistent and I didn’t want to. Not with him, anyway.” Sansa looked at the toys on the wall. “I can imagine he’d be into something like this.”

“Oh, he is –  just not on the receiving end of it. That’s why I’ve banned him from this floor and house calls.”

Sansa turned and was horrified when she faced Petyr. “I read what he did to two of your girls.”

“Sadly, yes. I had a cold-hearted to heartless talk with Cersei about it. He is only allowed on the main floor and nothing more. If he wants to beat women, he can do it on his own time and money.”

Sansa wanted to ask how badly they were hurt since the data he gave her didn’t give details, but she stayed silent. It was probably better she didn’t know. She did not dare ask the girls current whereabouts and doubted Petyr would tell her.

“Come, let’s go. I loathe this room.”

“Why are you showing me their rooms anyhow?” She walked faster to keep up with his long stride.

“Because you need to know the ‘goings-on’. Don’t worry, I don’t want to spend too much time up here. I’m sure you get the gist of it.” Petyr stopped briefly in front of the next door. “Jasmine. She got the name because of someone’s Aladdin fetish, and it stuck ever since. She decided to play with it because men like her exotic look even though she’s born and raised just on the other side of town.”

This girl’s room was decorated as if it was a timewarp to Persia, but Sansa didn’t have time to really look as she could see Petyr moving on.

“Myranda. Well, she’s been my buxom resident starlet. She’s deep into old Hollywood as you can see.”

A room that actually didn’t look like a brothel, Sansa thought. It was classy and definitely something that she could see in a Marilyn Monroe or Rita Hayworth film. Sansa walked around, and it felt like she stepped into the old silver screen era. Art deco with white plush carpet and violet crushed velvet chaise lounge in the corner. Floor to ceiling mirrors and a beautiful raised four-poster bed. Sansa was beginning to visualize what these girls must look like.

Petyr guided her out and walked her to the lift. “I'm not going to bother with the rest of the rooms, you get the idea. You’ll have access to the three floors now on both lifts.”

“What about the basement?”

“There’s nothing down there that concerns you,” Petyr ended the inquiry quickly.

“What will the staff say when they find out I live upstairs?” Sansa changed the subject just as swiftly.

Petyr smiled wickedly, “Oh, I’m sure they’ll gossip that we’re fucking each others brains out most likely.” Sansa couldn’t stop the blush on her cheeks. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit what _they_ think.”

“You may not, but I do. How will they respect me if they think…”

“Because I will sack them, and every one of them knows not to fuck with me if they want to keep their job.” Petyr ushered her inside the lift, taking them down to the main floor.

“You shouldn’t worry so much what they think of Alayne. You are my personal assistant who will prove worthy, I believe. And if they believe we’re fucking each other senseless, then what of it? Don’t be so naïve. It wouldn’t be the first or last time someone shagged their boss,” Petyr chuckled as he walked out onto the floor.

It certainly didn’t make Sansa feel any better, but the simplest explanation would probably be the best one, remembering Aunt Lysa. She had to remember that she was not Sansa and needed to stop thinking like her. Alayne was no one but an assistant to Mr. Baelish.

“I’ve meant to ask you. Where did we meet, and how did I get this job? I was thinking about a few…”

“We met on a private business deal of mine outside the club. You worked for a business partner of mine, and now you work for me until you move to Dorne. That’s it. If anyone asks for more, tell them they can take it up with me. My private business outside the club… actually, all of my business is none of theirs. Period. I’m sure they have their own ideas about me, and I honestly could care less.”

Petyr opened the doors leading to the VIP game room and lounges. “You’re safest here or at my home. I don’t think it’s wise to leave you alone for too long at any given time. The more you stay with me, the better for you. If anyone gets the idea that I’m leaving you here alone every night…”

“But what about Aunt Lysa?”

“Let me worry about Lysa.” Petyr waved it off telling her he didn’t wish to speak of it any longer. Sansa followed him into the kitchen, and it dawned on her suddenly.

“If you stay here…then where would _you_ sleep?” Petyr didn’t intend to stay with her, did he?

“Are you going to be an ungracious roommate already?” he raised his eyebrow and smiled at her discomfort. “I don’t snore, and frankly I don’t sleep that much as it is. There may be times I will have to stay here, and I don’t intend sleeping on the sofa. You’re more than welcome to sleep in one of the girl’s rooms if it’s a problem.”

Sansa shuddered. She wouldn’t sleep a wink in any one of those rooms. She controlled her gag reflex at the thought of how many people used those sheets. It also explained why Petyr never removed all of his belongings from the apartment.

They reached the storage rooms when Petyr pulled out a set of keys giving them to Sansa.

“This is my skeleton key and will open any door in case you forget the passcode except the basement. This key,” Petyr pointed to the red one, “is for these cabinets here.” She saw all the expensive wines and spirits under the glass. “The rest of the liquor is in the bar, and I’m not too worried about those. These are very expensive, and only you, Olyvar and I have the keys. This key,” he flipped to the green one. “This will open the cabinets there.” Next to the spirits were the cigars, cigarettes, hookahs, marijuana and specialty dry goods.

“How do you charge for these things?” Sansa wondered aloud.

“My VIPs and regulars have accounts and are billed for their drinks, food and… _any vice_ they entertain in. I may make adjustments later or make special gifts, but that is my discretion only. Just keep a log of everything given to a client. On your new tablet, you will have a menu of items that can be logged to every client. Each client has a number. Let me show you.”

Petyr activated the tablet he was holding and handed it to her. “If you press your finger to the number, it will show you the client’s name for a very brief moment. Memorize the name and numbers best you can to avoid having to see the name especially if you’re on the floor. _Privacy_ is a big concern of mine. Next to their number is where you can add anything to their account and it will sync to my computer. Everything in the inventory is synced in real time, so you know exactly what is in storage at all times. Once you add an item to a client, it will change the inventory, understand? Do not leave this anywhere on this floor unattended. It will lock immediately after five seconds. The only place you can leave this is in my office or in the apartment.”

“So, you have bartenders and cocktail waitresses that use something similar?” Sansa asked as she looked towards the kitchen.

“Yes. The kitchen will only be for use in the VIP section and not the main floor. Only drinks, basic snacks, smokes on the floor. It’s just too messy, and this isn’t some pub. The staff have only the numbers for members when they are on the main floor and VIP sections. Same goes for my girls. They can order things for clients and when they take any client upstairs they will charge for the duration of time and anything else… _special_.”

Sansa scanned through the tablet and what Petyr set up was surprisingly easy.

“My entire system is encrypted and even Olyvar doesn’t have access to everything. He does what is needed to maintain basic operations. He can write requisitions but I still order everything even if I’m elsewhere. He can pay employees with my authorization with petty cash.”

“Everyone is paid in cash?” Sansa couldn’t imagine Petyr would have a payroll.

“Yes. I have a different system in place to pay the taxes and make it all work. Plus, it’s always a bonus to have special clients that make sure I never get audited. Or some… let’s say, unfortunate leaked photos and videos would surface. It keeps everyone in line.”

“Have you ever had to threaten anyone like that?”

“Once or twice. Knowledge is power, my dear. I know enough about my clients that keeps them thinking twice about fucking with me. They can’t even threaten me with pain or death at this point. Even if I die, everything I have can be released publicly and still ruin them.” Petyr grinned with selfish pride. “A brilliant set up if I say so myself.”

Sansa just wondered what Petyr had up his sleeve if someone had a mind to take him out of the equation. He really had a dangerous business going. He promised to supply them with whatever tickled their desires and keep it private. Petyr brokered deals between the Houses and then some. He made them loads of money and took a hefty profit himself. If one of them decided to backstab him, he could threaten them with total exposure, but as long as everyone played together, there would be no reason to do such a thing. Yes, Petyr had set himself up rather nicely in the Syndicate. Unless he ever wanted to leave, that is. He would have the power to burn it all down, too if he desired.

Petyr walked her around, showing Sansa everything. She was getting a crash course in assistant managing and began to worry a little if she could pull this off. Sansa didn’t expect that Petyr would really put her in charge of anything serious, but this way it looked like she was his right hand while at the club. Sansa had worked at a pub while at college and knew the basics of it but never a nightclub like this. She didn’t know how to bartend and hoped she would never have to step behind that bar for any reason. Sansa could micro-manage though, if needed. Alayne would stick by Petyr’s side and pray to God he never left her to fend for herself alone.

“Olyvar will be here soon,” Petyr checked his watch. It was noon, and she was beginning to get hungry. “Let’s eat upstairs and then I’ll introduce you. After that, we’ll be busy in the afternoon.”

“With what?”

Petyr’s eyes gleamed a bit.

“ _Auditions_.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ATTEMPTED DATE RAPE DRUG TRIGGER WARNING**  
> I'm sensitive to this, having gone through it, and just want to warn readers that may have issues with reading how one feels the effects of being under the influence of date rape drugs.  
> And Myranda in this is very different than canon. She's a piece of shit.  
> And I'm total trash. Please throw me out because I love Petyr and Sansa together so damn much. They are completely fucked up and I don't care.  
> Petyr is a much darker character than I've written him before, just a heads up.

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Once again, Sansa waited patiently as she watched Petyr prepare lunch. It was strange, to say the least, that she found him rather endearing in these moments. Never would Sansa have thought Petyr was domestic in any way, but here he was making her a lamb sandwich with cracked mustard. It was so simplistic, she felt like she could have been home while her father made her a bite to eat.

But Sansa wasn’t home, and Petyr was anything but fatherly. The feeling of him cupping her between her legs sent a low burn to her core. Why did it feel like that when he handled her? When Joffrey or other boys groped her, she didn’t get butterflies or feel desire like this. Petyr was old enough to be her father, and yet it was his touch she was beginning to crave, not understanding why. He was a dangerous man, deep into this underworld, who had probably killed and done other unspeakable things. Petyr was a liar, drug dealer, and a pimp. What the hell was Sansa thinking?

Yet, with her, he was tender and gave her a sweet smile as he put a plate before her on the counter. Lunch was brief, and Sansa was quickly brushing her teeth and freshening up in the bathroom. Petyr would soon take her to meet Olyvar, and she didn’t want to screw it up. As she was touching up her lipstick, she caught Petyr’s reflection in the mirror. He was standing behind her, leaning against the door frame with an odd smile.

“What is it?” She couldn’t help the tinge of colour on her cheeks when he looked at her appraisingly. Petyr’s eyebrow twitched as he walked towards her until she could see his face so close to her own in the mirror.

She felt his fingers at her shoulders as they drifted across the back of her dress towards her spine. Was it the sound of a zipper closing incredibly slow and fastening the small button at the top or that his eyes never left hers that made her heart stop. Did she really forget to zip up her dress all the way this morning?

“Don’t worry, we won’t spend much time talking to Ol’. I have other matters to attend to today, and he knows it. Just let me do the talking. He will not attempt to question you in my presence.” Petyr’s voice was low and soothing as his hands rested on her bare upper arms.

Sansa could only nod, afraid her voice might squeak if she attempted to speak right now. She was used to men leering at her, flirting and such, but the way Petyr looked at her made her feel uneasy and thrilled at the same time. It was if he was admiring one of his beautiful works of art, but it made her stomach knot at the fact that those things belonged to him in his cold museum.

“If you’re quite finished, I’d like the bathroom for a moment.”

It was his; it wasn’t as if she could deny him. Sansa walked out and heard the door close behind her. He didn’t take long, but long enough for her to slip her shoes back on as well as her new persona. When Petyr emerged, he walked up to her so close to her face Sansa thought he was going to kiss her. He seemed to enjoy getting into her personal space and watching her reaction. She could smell her toothpaste on his breath and smiled.

“Do you like my toothpaste?” she japed, not knowing what else to say.

“Mmmm, I do. Thank you for not tossing out my toothbrush. I do so hate having bad breath after a meal.” Sansa couldn’t remember him ever having poor breath since she met him. Petyr didn’t move an inch, and she held her ground.

“You plan on kissing Olyvar or something?” she said when a few awkward moments passed.

Petyr barked with laughter and stepped back a little. “That’s the bite I’m looking for.” He passed her and opened the door. “Come on, daylight is burning.”

When they returned to the office a handsome blonde man was sitting at Petyr’s desk working. He glanced up and didn’t seem interested at all in the girl next to his boss. Petyr must have talked to him prior to this meeting, she suspected.

“Alayne, this is Olyvar,” Petyr introduced politely.

The man stood up and walked around the desk, “Where are my manners?” Olyvar was much taller than Petyr and nicely built. He really was quite handsome. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been his bitch for some months now, it will be nice to have some fresh blood around here to take the heat off so he’ll stop riding my arse all the time.”

Sansa extended her hand to shake his. “With all the lube around here, I’m sure there won’t be any friction at all between the three of us.”

The two men had shock written on their faces as they stared at her.

“What?” she asked innocently as she leaned against the door frame just as Petyr had earlier. “At least pull my hair and scream my name if you’re going to ride _my_ arse, Mr. Baelish. I might as well get something out of it.”

Olyvar bit back a grin stifling a laugh and looked to his boss for guidance. Sansa challenged Petyr’s wide-eyed gaze with a sweet smile. For a half a second, she thought she might have overshot it, but suddenly a small grin spread into a deep smile across his face that lit up his eyes.

Petyr started coughing to cover what she knew was a laugh, “Ahem… well, Olyvar… “ He gestured with one hand while shaking his head at her, “This is Alayne. As you can see, I have my hands full with this one.”

Olyvar chuckled softly, “Oh, I like her already.” Petyr passed him to sit at his desk as Olyvar winked at her. “Anyone that has the stones to have a go at him is good in my book.”

“You’ll find she has bigger stones than you, Ol’.” Petyr studied over a few papers not looking at either one of his assistants.

Olyvar smirked, “Well, if that’s the case, she is a queen at tucking them in – wearing that dress.” He looked her over with praise, “Boss, I think we’ve officially found the female version of you.”

“And I’ve officially found the hole that I’ll be dumping your soon to be dead body in.” Petyr raised his eyebrows in indignation.

Olyvar leaned into Sansa by the door and whispered, “He’s been threatening me with that for over a year.”

Sansa smiled and glanced at Petyr’s slightly annoyed appearance. She liked Olyvar just as she liked Martin. For some reason, Petyr was okay with their japes, but Sansa wagered they were the only two men he allowed that kind of talk. Just as she was able to give Petyr a little jab now and then, she knew, just as she bet Olyvar did, when not to press his buttons.

“Now that I have someone to replace you… “ Petyr muttered under his breath.

“Oh, hear that? Now I can get fucked in the arse by men that actually enjoy it. How _will_ I spend my newfound free time?” Olyvar said in mock hurt.

“I don’t care as long as you keep charging Loras Tyrell every time. That is if you want to get paid.” Petyr raised his eyes. “That reminds me, I need you here for Martell. You know what he likes. Use Jasmine this time.”

The smile died on Olyvar’s face. “Sure. What about Myranda, she’s not going to be happy about that. Oberyn is big money. She’s had him almost exclusively hasn’t she?”

“I don’t give a fuck if ‘Randa is angry or not. She’s getting lazy and too far up her own arse. Jasmine is fresh and willing to experiment. She’s right up Oberyn’s alley.” Petyr set down his pen and sighed. “If she goes mental, send her to me, I’ll give it to her straight. Oberyn wants new and exciting. Myranda is stuck in her tired role as the Queen around here. Maybe she needs to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“You’re the boss.” Olyvar patted Sansa on her injured shoulder. She felt a twinge of pain but dared not show it.

“You might want to remember that more often,” Petyr japed.

“Yeah… I’m going to set up downstairs. They should be here in a few minutes.” Olyvar headed out the door.

 _Auditions_. Sansa had almost forgotten about that.

“We’ll be down in a few minutes,” Petyr concluded.

Sansa waited until she heard the ping of the lift doors. “Who are we auditioning exactly?”

“New girls.”

Sansa toyed with the tablet in her hands. “And what happened to the old ones?”

Petyr stopped what he was doing and scrutinized her. “Does it matter?” His tone told her he didn’t want her opinion.

“No.”

“Good.” Petyr picked up a small folder and walked around the desk. “Let’s go and get this over with.”

On the main floor, Olyvar had dragged over one sofa, chaise lounge chair and the dancefloor was littered with many pillows near the larger stage. Sansa’s stomach tightened. She didn’t want to watch strangers having sex as a job interview, but asking Petyr to go back upstairs wasn’t an option. This was his business, and she needed to appear all right with it. Sansa had seen her share of online porn before and tried to think of it like that. She could distance herself from it and just pretend she wasn’t there.

_It’s only stupid porn. They’ll say dumb things that normal people probably would never say and fake it. It’s only an act._

Petyr walked into the bar and started pouring himself a whiskey with a splash of water and a few cubes of ice. “Do you want a drink, Alayne?”

“Sure. I’ll take… a vodka cranberry, thank you.” Sansa saw a small loveseat and a side table sitting in front of the setting but far enough away from the action. Sitting down and crossed her legs, Sansa tried to calm her nerves and thought the alcohol would help. Maybe that’s why Petyr offered in the first place.

Petyr handed her the cocktail, and she saw that he made it a double and was rather grateful for it. Sansa took a drink as he sat down next to her – but not too close. The rich flavor wasn’t cranberry, and she remembered the taste of the pomegranate juice, smiling inwardly.

Claps of footsteps echoed across the empty club. She saw Olyvar leading several girls up to the stage in front of them. Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe they weren’t going to have sex in front of her after all. Sansa sipped her drink and tried to look professionally interested as if she were some casting director for a play.

The girls introduced themselves one by one and gave a few details about themselves. Some had far too much makeup on, and others looked surprisingly like normal college girls. One girl had one of the biggest pair of boobs she had ever seen while another was dressed as if she were going to a cocktail party.

Another set of heels clicked across the hardwood floors as Sansa looked to her right to see a rather pretty brunette walk in as if she owned the place. The girl was dressed simply in a purple dress that swayed with her curvy hips. She was rather ample in the chest, and her makeup was all dolled up like a movie star.

“Randa, you’re late again. You know how I feel about that.”

The brunette rolled her eyes at him, but then suddenly stopped in her tracks. She stared directly at Sansa, _at Alayne_ , with suspicious eyes and didn’t seem to care who saw it.

“Who is she?”

“This is Alayne Stone, my new assistant. Sit down so we can get started.” Petyr wasn’t wasting any time with explanations, and the brunette begrudgingly sat down on the chaise while her eyes never left that of her boss’s new girl.

Petyr began by explaining the atmosphere he wanted for the club and what he was looking for. He wanted intelligent ladies that knew how to dance and be seductive without looking cheap. He didn’t want ditzy, giggling girls that had the IQ of a sorority house. One girl immediately left, and Sansa was surprised so many stayed. Petyr was commanding in his presence and a bit terrifying.

There were at least seven girls and only three openings. It was an audition if ever she saw one. The money must be extremely good, she thought. Petyr’s establishment clearly had a reputation in one way or another. He wanted them to dance to begin, whittling the group down as Olyvar queued up a song that was modern and sexy.

Sansa had been to a few nightclubs and wondered if this is what she and her then college friends looked like when they danced. It was almost comical. One girl was trying way too hard at being sexy, touching herself everywhere and trying to make eye contact with Petyr. Sansa hid her amusement and watched on. Two girls were subtler, and a few others were just ridiculous. Sansa glanced at Petyr, and he was clearly thinking the same thing.

“Christ. _Stop, stop stop_.” Petyr stood and put his hand in the air. The music stopped abruptly, and she heard him sigh. “Ladies, do you see a pole anywhere in here?”

Sansa looked to Olyvar, and he was stifling a laugh. He had been through this before, she gathered. The girls looked around when one finally shook her head at Petyr.

“If you want to pole dance, you can do so for free on the other side of town. Not here. I want seduction and some class if that’s not too much to ask. What’s the point in clients paying for you if you’re going to give a free show? If they want _this_ upstairs in private, fine… but not down here.”

One girl squeaked out, “What do you mean, _upstairs_?”

Petyr’s head dropped, and his hands went to his hips. Randa laughed softly from her chair, and Sansa felt terrible for the girl.

“Darling, you do know where you are don’t you?” Petyr exhaled in irritation as she nodded. “You know what an escort or a call girl does?”

He waited for the frightened girl to answer when Myranda piped up, “You fuck for money, baby girl. Jesus…”

Petyr glared at the brunette. “Myranda, shut…”

“Randa, choke on a bag of dicks.” Olyvar beat Petyr to the punch as it was apparent he didn’t have much love for her, making Sansa smile.

“Fuck you, Ol’.” Myranda spat.

“Not on your best birthday, love. I know where those holes have been.” Olyvar tossed fire back at her without a second thought. _And two points for Olyvar,_ Sansa smiled to herself.

“Enough! Both of you shut the fuck up.” Petyr walked up to the stage and placed his hands on the edge. “Now, does anyone else have any questions as to what kind of job they’re interviewing for? The door is right back there.” He waited for a moment as the scared redhead took her bag and scurried out as fast as she could.

“Anyone else?” The other girls stood frozen, and Petyr pushed away from the stage. “Good. Moving on.” Petyr turned around and walked past Myranda. As she moved to stand, Petyr gestured that she remain sitting. “Alayne, come here please.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped. She was glad Petyr gave her glasses because they hid the bit of fear in her eyes. Setting her drink and tablet aside, Sansa slowly got up from the loveseat and adjusted her dress before taking the few steps to stand before him.

“The idea is seduction, ladies. You want them to spend as much money as possible with drinks and… _everything else_. There’s a reason my ladies here make a killing.” Petyr took Sansa’s hand and pulled her closer to him. “You have to make them want you. Any man can go to a club and find what you’re displaying to me right now _for free_. Here, they pay a rather hefty price for an experience. If you want to make the kind of money that these two are used to,” Petyr pointed to Myranda and Olyvar and returned his attention to Sansa, “You need to up your game. The kind of clientele that comes here doesn’t want a corner hooker and cheap pole dancer. Like I said before, if they _do_ , they have to pay extra for it.”

“Ol’, give me something slow and sensual.” Petyr leaned into her ear and whispered, “You said that night at dinner, you had dance lessons a few years ago. Know any Latin?” Sansa nodded in surprise that he remembered that. She had begged her mum, after seeing ballroom dancers on a tv show, to let her take lessons. She learned the basic waltz, mambo, and her favourite … the tango. “Follow my lead, I just want to show them what I’m looking for. Nothing too fancy.” Petyr’s eyes glowed with a devious green and a grin that was pure wickedness.

The song Olyvar chose had a slow beat and was definitely oozing sex appeal. Petyr pulled her to him and took her waist and her right hand in his. The first few steps and Sansa knew he was playing a bit of the tango. She followed him and just as he said, it wasn’t anything fully choreographed, just the feel of the beat and basic moves that what caught her eye on the television in the first place. To have a man dance like this instead of the guys at the clubs that just wanted to dry hump you in public was a welcome change. Why couldn’t all men know how to do this? Sansa’s nervousness dissolved as she melted into him almost forgetting the people watching.

The way Petyr held her wasn’t like the dancers she saw on those shows, it was dirtier. She could feel every inch of him, the movement of his hips with hers as he spun her around with her back against his chest. He held her across her stomach and brought one of her arms up and around his neck as she felt his breath against hers.

His voice broke the magic a little, “I’m not saying you ladies need to know ballroom, that’s not what I’m after.” He turned Sansa back to him, and his face was so close that she could see the flecks of grey in his green eyes.

“It’s about connection… _desire_ … and keeping it. Most of the men that come here most likely have two left feet as it is, but that’s not the point. You are bringing them into your world,” Petyr dipped her head back, ghosting his lips along the side of her neck, making the fine hairs stand on end. “Entice them,” He let his hand trail her hip and lightly grabbing her backside without missing a beat with his hips, “Bewitch and entrance them.”

Sansa reciprocated, and her hand weaved through his hair until holding the back of his neck, giving it back as good as she got. Petyr grinned at her, and it made her core ache. “Dancing is nothing but sex fully clothed while standing up. One of the oldest forms of courtship.” Too right he was, she thought. Sansa couldn’t stop thinking that men who could dance like this were probably good lovers as well.

“Make them believe that they are the only man in the world to you. Make love to them without actually doing it. You want them hot and bothered enough that they will follow you anywhere, pay anything to possess you.” Petyr’s sweet breath was on her lips, but he didn’t kiss her. He only hovered for a moment and then pulled away. “ _That_ is what I’m looking for.”

He stepped away and released her as if nothing had happened. Sansa pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and was surprised the lenses weren’t fogged up. She kept her back straight and walked back to the loveseat and sat down not before catching Myranda’s eyes that were daggers aimed directly at her. Sansa had the feeling that Myranda was the one that Petyr usually used when instructing. Sansa glanced at Olyvar, and he was grinning from ear to ear and gave her a wink.

“Ultimately, you need to be good actresses for something like this. Not every client is going to be handsome or the woman young and pretty. If you can make them believe, you will do well here and make a lot of money. Let’s try again. Ol’, Randa… go up there and work with them and see what they’ve got.”

The music played, and Petyr returned to Sansa’s side, patting her knee as he sat. “You did very well.” The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Myranda that had a look of pure hatred on her face as she ascended the stage.

“She hates me.” Petyr’s eyes followed hers to Myranda on stage dancing with a pretty blonde.

“Her? Who cares? If she keeps up this attitude...” Petyr sighed and sipped his whiskey. “ She’s one foot out the door as it is. I’m tired of her games.”

After a few minutes, Petyr named a few girls and asked them to stay as the rest were bid farewell. Sansa didn’t have to ask what came next as Olyvar started removing his shirt walking to two girls on the sofa. Sansa’s back stiffened, feeling extremely uncomfortable as the scene playing out before them.

Petyr felt her tension and leaned in whispering, “Just think of it as watching porn on the television. Distance yourself.” He said exactly what she had been thinking. Peytr handed her the folder that contained profiles of the girls in front of them. “Here, you can use this as a distraction if you need it.”

Sansa pretended to write on the paper but couldn’t stop glancing up. She tried with all her might to stay unaffected, but at the same time, she couldn’t tune out what was happening. This wasn’t like watching porn at all. These were real people only several feet away having real sex. A loud moan caused Sansa’s eyes to slowly drag up from the folder. Olyvar was fingering the blonde, and another dark blonde girl’s head was between his legs on the sofa. Oddly, Sansa thought for sure he was gay the way he interacted with Petyr and the mention of Loras Tyrell.

_I guess he goes both ways?_

She glanced sideways at Petyr, and his face was that of a bored observer. He was utterly detached from it all. Sansa wished she could be desensitized like that. Petyr lit a cigarette when one girl started moaning loudly as Myranda fucked her with a toy. It wasn’t the use of the toy or that it was two women having sex, it was the girl’s silly moans that made Sansa’s eyes widen.

“ _Jesus_ … _just_ _stop_.” Petyr stood up and walked towards them. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”

"I have to wonder. Is this what you all learn from porn sites nowadays? That the louder you scream, and this nonsensical bullshit is somehow tantalizing? You’re not fooling anyone. Perhaps boys will fall for this rubbish, but you’re not dealing with teenage boys here.” Petyr sighed and rubbed his chin while Sansa prayed to God that he didn’t want her for any further instruction. “They have already paid for you. They know what you are and that it’s all an act. Now start again.”

Petyr spoke the truth. It was all an act. All of it. All lies and liars. This is what she needed to remember. If she was going to fool Joffrey, she needed to take her time and lure him to her. Anything too brash, he would probably just brush her off like one of Petyr’s girls for hire. Sansa relaxed and watched Petyr take control without touching anyone. He walked around the sofa where Myranda was waiting with a knowing smile on her face, and Sansa didn’t like it at all.

“Your job is to make them forget what they know, and that takes time.” Petyr leaned over the back of the sofa next to the young girl Myranda had spread eagle before her. “ _Ease_ into it.” His voice was seductive and dropped an octave.

Myranda played with the girl, kissing her deeply and stroking her from her breasts down to the curls between her legs. Sansa couldn’t tear her eyes away, not because she was interested in the two women, but that Petyr was looking directly at her as he spoke from behind the girls. “Slowly.”

Myranda’s head was now between the girl’s legs, and Sansa pressed her own together instinctively. The young girl was sighing, and this time it sounded real. Petyr’s voice was low and soothing as he spoke and kept his eyes on Sansa. “He’s winning you over in spite of yourself. You’re beginning to like this. He wants to believe you. He’s enjoyed his cock since he was old enough to play with it, why shouldn’t you?”

He purred even more slowly as the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Even Olyvar and the two other girls stopped and watched.

“He knows he’s better than other men. He’s always known it deep down inside, and now he has proof. Oh, he’s _so_ good…” His voice made Sansa ache while the girl moaned even more deeply as Myranda worked her over.

“He’s reaching something deep inside of you that no one knew was even there. Overcoming…” The girl starting clawing at the brunette's hair, “Your…” The way she was breathing and calling out for God, Sansa knew, hell everyone knew she was going to orgasm soon.

“ _Very nature_.” The girl screamed out as her body shook. Sansa didn’t even realize she was breathing heavy until the end. Petyr never broke eye contact once, and that alone made her quiver.

Myranda pulled away, and Petyr immediately stood and looked to Olyvar, pointing to three specific girls. “Get them cleaned up. They’re all working tonight. I need everyone on point before this weekend.”

Olyvar gathered the girls together and left for the second floor. Myranda dressed slowly as Petyr moved the furniture back. “Petyr, I need to speak with you.” She gave Sansa a glare, “ _Privately_.”

 _Petyr?_ Not Mr. Baelish, boss, or even sir… but Petyr?

Sansa avoided the woman’s gaze and went back to writing in the folder and looking at her mobile, knowing there was nothing there requiring her attention.

“Later. I’m busy.” He finished up and returned to Sansa, taking the folder from her hands.

“Right.” Suddenly Myranda’s expression changed as she sauntered up to him while keeping a watchful eye on Sansa. “ _Later, darling_.”

Myranda gave him a peck on the cheek, yet he didn’t react at all. The woman turned and sashayed out of the room towards the lift. Sansa blinked with her eyebrows raised. Wow, she was a piece of work, that one.

“Well, now that you’ve met Myranda, the other girls should be a cakewalk,” Petyr grinned.

Sansa was itching to ask what that whole scene was about, but she kept silent. To be honest, she didn’t want to know what was between them. However, a small smile crept onto her face at the thought of this woman combusting when she heard the news about Oberyn very soon.

_What goes around, comes around._

“You controlled yourself very well this afternoon. Well done.” Petyr offered his hand to help her up, and she took it all in, his compliment. He was praising her, and she had to admit she liked it very much.

“Thank you,” she replied meekly.

“The guest list is nothing exciting tonight. Just regulars really. No Lysa, thankfully, so you can get a good look at how this is run on a day to day basis. When Oberyn arrives, it will be quite different. We will be swamped and the place will be amped up.” Petyr set down the folder and took the tablet out of her hand, placing it on the table. He leaned in close and stroked her jaw ever so lightly.

“You smell of pomegranates. My favourite fruit.”

Sansa didn’t break and kept her cool.

“Now I see why you keep feeding them to me. Shall I start calling you Hades?” Sansa saw his eyes gleam a little.

“You’re not quite ready to by my Persephone, Alayne. But by all means, you’re welcome to try.” Petyr slowly dragged his thumb along her jawline, flicking her chin gently at the end. “Go relax for a bit. I’ll come get you when the club opens.”

Sansa smiled, picked up her tablet, and started for the lift.

“Alayne.”

“Yes.”

“I look forward to dancing with you again.” Petyr flashed a brilliant smile and headed towards the VIP lounge without a second glance.

 

 

 

It was getting late, and Petyr didn’t come for her as he said he would. Sansa had a light dinner and thought about changing her clothes but decided not to. Better not raise too many questions just yet. Her black sheath dress was elegant yet still professional. She left off the scarf and pulled her hair into a ponytail instead of the bun from the day. Sansa touched up her makeup, adding a little evening flair and then sat waiting for Petyr to come.

She checked the silver watch he gave her, and it was almost eleven. She could hear the club’s music throbbing from downstairs and wondered if Petyr changed his mind. He seemed happy with her today. Sansa sent him a text a while ago, and he hadn’t answered.

Petyr told her not to betray him, but that also meant disobeying him too, Sansa reasoned. Maybe she could just steal down to his office to see if he was there. She wouldn’t dare go into the club without his knowledge. Sansa was tired of waiting, slipped on her heels and glasses, grabbing the tablet. She took the service lift to the second floor, avoiding any clients that might be using the main lift instead. Petyr’s office was around the corner, and the door closed. She could hear a woman’s laughter further down the hallway and figured it was one of his girls working. Suddenly muffled angry voices caught her attention, noticing they came directly from Petyr’s closed door.

The door swung open and Myranda, dressed to the nines, stormed out, fit to be tied. She saw Sansa and stopped for a moment but looked back to Petyr and seemed to hold her tongue with quite some forced control. She spun on her heel, heading towards the main lift.

“Alayne… come here, please.” Petyr’s voice was tense, and Sansa knew she should have waited for him upstairs. She slowly walked in, and he was sitting on the edge of his desk. “Close the door.”

Sansa’s heart pounded, and she did as he commanded. _Damnit!_ She knew she was in trouble even though Petyr praised her today, now he was angry. Obviously, he and Myranda had argued, and now Sansa just added to it as she shut the door.

Before she took her hand off the doorknob, Petyr whipped her around, his mouth on hers devouring her whole. He pressed her up against the door, and Sansa had no idea what to do.

She tried to speak but opening her mouth only allowed him to kiss her deeper. The tip of his tongue touched hers, feeling herself letting go. Sansa had never been kissed before, not like this. This was a man’s kiss, not the clumsy novice attempts by boys her age. Petyr’s five o’clock shadow lightly burned the delicate skin around her lips, but she didn’t care anymore.

_He’s winning you over in spite of yourself. You’re beginning to like this…_

Sansa whimpered into his mouth as the slow ache between her legs returned as the memory of his hips rotating with hers downstairs entered her mind. When her free hand touched his back, he pulled away breathless. Her chest was heaving, and all she could think about was how much she wanted Petyr to kiss her again. Sansa gazed at his lips that had a trace of her lipstick on them.

Petyr suddenly stepped back and the moment was gone. He studied her for a moment and cleared his throat, “It’s getting late, and I really need to make my rounds downstairs. This night has already been wasted…” Sansa felt a pang of hurt, and he must have seen it her eyes, adding with a smile. “Well… _almost_.”

“Fix yourself up, the loo is just there.” Petyr pointed to the door behind him. Sansa brushed past him and entered the bathroom, closing the door. She would have splashed cold water on her face if it didn’t ruin her makeup. Looking in the mirror, her lips were slightly swollen from his kiss, and Sansa couldn’t catch her breath. She liked kissing him, but what worried her more was how far she would have let him go if he had tried? Sansa breathed slowly and repeated her mantra again. Once calm, she put on her mask and applied a little lipstick that he had kissed off.

When she opened the door, Petyr had composed himself and was waiting patiently. They walked to the main lift and could see a few of his girls, including a new one, taking clients to their rooms. The doors opened to loud music on the main floor. The place was hopping, and she could see the crowd was having a good time. The place was packed.

Petyr led her through the club with a gentle hand on the small of her back. He greeted several of his regulars and introduced Alayne to each one. Some of the men were polite and a few others ogled her from head to toe. One of Petyr’s bouncers opened the door to the VIP lounge as he guided her inside. The scent of cigars and hookahs was overpowering in here while the music was muted down considerably.

Sansa recognized a politician with a pretty blonde on his lap that laughed at his jokes. Myranda was at a card table with a man she knew was in the Syndicate but couldn’t place his name. She had seen him at Cersei’s home once she recalled.

Myranda gave Petyr a sweet smile and poured the man another glass of expensive brandy as she inhaled from a long tube connected to the hookah beside her. She was dressed in a red satin dress with lips to match. She smiled at Sansa but it wasn’t a pleasant smile meant in kindness. Myranda returned to playing cards with the men at the table, and she felt Petyr’s hand on her back again.

He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course. The smoke is making me a little light-headed though,” Sansa smiled.

Another VIP greeted Petyr while Sansa stood next to him as they conversed about business for a bit. He introduced her as he did with the others and the man shook her hand lightly before Petyr took Sansa back into the main club.

“I need a drink. What would you like?” Petyr walked her up to the side of the bar and signaled his bartender.

“Oh, just sparkling water would be fine.” She thought Petyr might question it, but he didn’t. The bartender made him an old fashioned and slid the tall sparkling water with lime to Sansa, giving her a wink. He was cute but not her type.

Sansa tapped her foot to the music standing next to Petyr as they scanned the room together. A bouncer found them and whispered in his ear. He snuffed out his cigarette and leaned into her.

“There’s a problem. Stay here, I shouldn’t be long. Or you may go upstairs if you like,” Petyr said.

Sansa was sick of that apartment, and didn’t want to go back up there just yet. She was enjoying the music. If she kept to herself, there shouldn’t be any real problem. Aunt Lysa wasn’t here, and if Joffrey or someone else important had arrived, Petyr would have told her.

“I’ll stay here. You go, I’ll be fine.” Petyr finished his drink in one gulp and studied her. “I promise I won’t set the place on fire… not yet anyway,” she teased.

God, Sansa didn’t know where this new confidence was coming from lately. She straightened her glasses and posture, telling him she was perfectly okay. Petyr seemed to debate taking her with him, but smiled and told her he would return shortly.

Sansa stood by the edge of the bar for close to twenty minutes by her watch. This time she actually wanted a drink, and the cute bartender made her a whiskey sour. She never drank whiskey and wasn’t sure she liked it. Sansa sat her glass on the bar and observed people her age dancing and flirting, thinking this would have been a fun place to go with her college friends.

She knew now what this place really was, changing everything. Sansa looked at the people through Petyr’s eyes now as a manager. His girls were on the floor, working to seduce and take rich patrons upstairs. The cocktail waitresses were busy squeezing through the crowds and Petyr had two of the coolest bartenders she had ever seen.

These two guys were their own act behind the bar, and she understood why it was so packed. They were tossing bottles back and forth like jugglers and making it a show while people waited for their cocktails. Sansa didn’t know how long she watched them in amazement when she saw Myranda near the middle of the bar with a dark-haired man. Apparently, the guy at the card table wasn’t biting, and she had moved on to someone else. He seemed around Sansa’s age and wasn’t bad looking.

Myranda caught Alayne’s wandering eye and smiled again. Perhaps Petyr laid down the law, and that’s why the girl was suddenly pleasant. She whispered in the man’s ear, and they both looked Alayne’s way. There was something in the way the man looked at her that made Sansa very uneasy. She turned her back to them and watched the crowd for a moment until pulling out her phone and was about to text Petyr when someone slid up next to her.

“Hello. You’re looking very lonely over here,” a smooth voice said.

Sansa glanced to her side, and the man Myranda was just talking to was smiling while sipping his beer.

“Hello,” she offered politely hoping she didn’t have to talk to him. He looked familiar, but Sansa couldn’t say for sure.

“Just hello? No name or do I make one up for you?”

_Oh God, what was it with men and terrible pickup lines?_

“Ms. Stone. I don’t mean to be rude, but I work here. I’m waiting for Mr. Baelish to return.” Sansa hoped that might deter the man if he knew who the owner was, but it didn’t.

“Well, it’s been a while now. Why don’t I keep you company until he comes back? A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be left alone in a place like this. Some men might take advantage of it.” His voice gave Sansa the chills, and she was just about to signal the bartender when she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ramsay, I thought I told your father that you were no longer allowed here.” Petyr came up behind her, instantly feeling protected. “Do I really need to embarrass him by kicking you out publicly?”

 _Ramsay?_ This was Roose Bolton’s bastard son? Dear God. She knew how much her mother hated the Boltons and tried to convince her father of their treachery. No doubt that Roose would try to seize an opportunity now that her family was dead. They always envied her family and their place within the Syndicate. If Sansa didn’t know that Joffrey had killed them, she would have definitely suspected the Boltons first.

“Baelish, I meant no harm. I was just looking for a good time with your new lady here… at least you’re picking some better-looking ones lately.”

“She’s not for sale.” Petyr’s hand was on the small of her back again.

“Everyone is for sale, Baelish. Don’t worry, I have the money upfront this time. I’ll play nice and break her in gently,” Ramsay smiled and never before had a man’s smile scared her shitless.

“You’re a real gentleman,” Petyr retorted with sarcasm. “You might want to tell her how you beat two of my girls half to death, and the only reason I didn’t kill you then was out of respect for your father,” Petyr sneered.

Petyr respected Roose Bolton? Well, there was a black mark against him. Sansa couldn’t imagine why someone like Petyr would deal with a man like Roose. She picked up her cocktail, gulping half of it down, even though she didn’t like it much. Sansa needed a drink. Maybe she would hit up Petyr’s minibar in the apartment later tonight.

“With a snap of my fingers, I’ll have you thrown out. Your choice.” Petyr’s voice turned ice-cold, and if Ramsay didn’t get the hint now, he was an idiot.

“Your drinks and whores are horribly overpriced anyway,” Ramsay smirked and downed the rest of his ale. The man walked towards the entrance and Petyr signaled to one of his bouncers.

Sansa heard Petyr say to follow Ramsay and blacklist him from the club. He turned back to Sansa, looking her over as if she had been molested. “Are you alright?”

“Petyr, I’m fine. I can take care of myself. It’s not my first time in a nightclub dealing with wankers like him hitting on me.” She didn’t mean to bark back at him, but she was annoyed Petyr left her alone for so long.

“Be careful around him, I fear he’s worse than Joffrey. Roose barely keeps him in line but…” Petyr seemed lost in thought.

“But what?” Sansa asked.

“Nothing. It’s not important, right now. Come on, one last round and off you go to bed.”

Sansa finished off her drink and decided she would never have that again. Whiskey was just not her drink. It must be a guy thing considering how much Petyr seemed to like it.

Petyr guided her around once again, and after a while, the time seemed to flow slower and slower. Sansa didn’t know how long they walked around talking to guests, but the longer she walked, the more the room seemed to weigh in on her. The air was thick, and her ears felt as though they were muffled.

Sansa had been drunk a few times before, but she only had one drink tonight. Petyr was talking to a man while their voices sounded low and distant. Suddenly her head was spinning, and her feet were light and tingly.

She ran into something and heard someone talking in her ear but couldn’t understand a word. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up as it was all she could do to stand. Sound blurred in and out, and Sansa could make out a little here and then before leaning completely into the arm that held her.

“Alayne, what did you drink?”

“Good heavens Baelish, is she alright?”

She felt Petyr walk her across the floor and thought she heard Olyvar’s voice laced with concern.

“Here, take over the club for the rest of the night.”

She felt Petyr handing something to Olyvar, but she didn’t care. She leaned into him and couldn’t keep her head up any longer.

“I banned Ramsay from the club not too long ago.”

“Fuck that little tosser. Did he drug her? Do you need any help?” She felt another pair of soft hands on her arm.

“No, I have her.”

Everything blended together, only when Sansa heard a soft ping and knew she was in the lift. Petyr tilted her head back, telling her to open her eyes and heard him curse. The doors opened as he lifted her to his side with her arm around his neck. It felt like she was walking in deep sand the way her feet sunk down into the carpet. Petyr bent down to scoop her up into his arms.

“No, really, I can walk,” she slurred.

“Not worth the effort.”

Her head dropped into the crook of his neck and felt herself go limp in his arms. A myriad of thoughts ran through her mind that she couldn't control. Sansa could feel Petyr’s arms holding her and remembered him kissing her in his office, angry voices yelling and they sounded like her parents in their bedroom with the door closed, her little brothers crying… and a shot rang out.

Sansa couldn’t tell what was real anymore as she felt being laid down on something soft and the zipper being pulled down on her dress. Her arms were weak and heavy as she tried to push the hands away.

“No… I don’t want to,” she muttered.

“Shhh, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you,” a soothing voice said.

 Instantaneously, it morphed into a harsh laugh, “You’re going to like it…quit being such a cock tease…”

Joffrey grinned as he pushed her hair from her face and pulled the dress down her body. Sansa tried to kick him, hearing a deep grunt.

“Leave me alone, Joffrey. Why can’t you leave me alone?” she cried as strong arms held her to him.

“It’s Petyr, love. _Petyr_. Shhhh…. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Her shoulder and head screamed in pain. Sansa could feel the blood on her hands. She struggled in the unknown man’s hold crying, “I don’t want to die. Don’t let me die….please.”

Gunshots rang out as she felt herself falling down as a scream erupted from her lungs.

Sansa shot up and took a deep breath as she was about to drown. A strong arm pulled her back down.

“You’re alright. Breathe. You’re safe. Just breathe. It’s the drug, Sansa… I need you to relax, or you’ll make yourself sick again.”

The fog cleared and Sansa saw that she was in the apartment. It was just a dream, a horrible nightmare. She was in bed and safe. It wasn’t Joffrey. He wasn’t here. She turned her head and saw Petyr lying next to her. His arm was secure around her waist, and he looked as if he had not slept at all. Sansa looked down and she was wrapped in her silk robe. It was Petyr that had removed her dress last night. She thought she should be angry, but something told her his intentions were not to harm her.

Sansa took a deep breath. Her head was aching horribly as she tried to remember last night. Petyr loosened his hold and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“I hope you don’t mind. You were thrashing about terribly and had quite a slew of nightmares. It was a matter of time for the drug to wear off. I’m almost positive it was Ketamine.”

 _Drug_. Sansa replayed what she did remember. _Ramsay_. Her cocktail was on the bar, and he must have slipped it in. Ugh, how could she be so stupid? She wasn’t paying attention at all. A single tear fell down her cheek.

“Hey… don’t, it’s not your fault. I should never have left you alone.” Genuine concern was in Petyr’s voice as he held her tighter to him. “I won’t let anything like that ever happen again.”

“I should have known better,” she mumbled bitterly.

“Like all women who are unknowingly drugged and then raped? It’s not your fault. I’ll have a lovely box to bury him alive in when I do find him.” Sansa knew Petyr was attempting to make her feel better, but all she could do was shudder at the thought of what might have happened if Petyr hadn’t shown up when he did.

“I’m sorry about what I said about Joffrey dominating you yesterday. I didn’t realize that he tried to rape you.” Petyr’s soft finger gently wiped away her tear.

“He didn’t get far. I took off but not before I smacked the shit outta him first.”

She felt Petyr chuckle behind her, and she couldn’t stop the small smile at the memory of slapping Joffrey around before she ran off. Sansa probably could have beat him harder if she wanted to. Then the memory of him and his cronies running through her house shooting her family wiped the smile from her lips. She may have smacked him right, but his revenge was far worse to bear.

“Revenge is sometimes the best medicine.”

Sansa turned back to look at Petyr again, and his eyes seemed to read her very thoughts. He understood. Sansa wondered what secret revenge he was harboring while working for the Syndicate all these years.

Sansa turned around on her other side facing him. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday and was on top of the covers while she was underneath. The way Petyr kissed her last night and that she was utterly drugged up, he could have taken advantage of her if he wanted to. Instead, Petyr took care of her.

“Why are you helping me?”

“That’s a loaded question. Perhaps when I’m roaring drunk someday, I’ll answer it. But not today.”

Petyr moved to get up, and Sansa grasped his hand. “Petyr, I know it’s silly, but… will you stay? Just a little longer?”

Sansa tried not to sound desperate, but she really didn’t want him to leave yet. Petyr sat on the bed and debated it. He looked terrible. Sansa wagered he didn’t sleep a wink.

“I really have quite a bit of work to do. This weekend will be hectic.”

“You’re exhausted. You need some sleep, too.” God, she really wanted him to stay. Sansa didn’t want to be alone. “Just a couple hours. I won’t wake you, I promise.”

A sad smile drifted across his face as he nodded silently. “Do you mind if I take this belt off?”

Sansa gave a half-smile and shook her head. Petyr removed it and untucked his shirt, letting out a few more buttons to be more comfortable. He laid on his back, sighing deeping. He really must have been tired. Petyr pulled his phone from his pocket and set a timer and closed his eyes. Sansa turned on her side away from him and settled back down into the soft mattress.

It didn’t take long, and before she knew it, she was fast asleep. This time, she didn’t dream of Joffrey and horrible things. Sansa felt herself waking from a lovely dream of dancing and kissing only to find that in sleep, she had curled into Petyr on her own. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and her leg entwined with his. She felt his arm around her waist and hand that rested gently on her hip. A part of her liked it, this quiet intimacy, but a stronger part said she shouldn’t be laying with him like this. Hell, she was practically laying on top of him. Sansa moved slightly and felt his arm tighten around her.

_Shit, shit, shit._

She didn’t want him to wake up thinking this is why she wanted him to stay. Maybe she did and was only lying to herself. Petyr felt awful about teasing Sansa and probably kissing her too after realizing that Joff tried to rape her.

Sansa couldn’t tell Petyr that she actually liked the way he touched and kissed her. She knew she should be shocked and repulsed by an older man doing such things to her and heard her mother’s voice in her head telling her she was mad. But there was something about him that intrigued her and left her wanting more. Sansa knew she shouldn’t want or trust him. That’s what her logic and reason told her, and she wanted so much to shut it off.

Reason won out as Sansa slowly moved Petyr’s arm and rolled away as softly as she could as to not wake him. It didn’t work as she heard him groan and turn with her. He spooned her from behind and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him. There was no getting out of this one. Every time she moved, he held her tighter. Petyr’s hand rested on her bare stomach above her underwear. Her robe had fallen open when she turned away from him and was now partially trapped under his body.

Sansa tried to control her breathing, but all she could feel was his hand on her skin only inches away from where he touched her in the dressing room that day. She shouldn’t be aroused right now, she chastised herself. Maybe he’ll move soon or wake up, and they’ll deal with the awkwardness that undoubtedly would come.

Slowly, she tried to move again, hoping to pull her robe across her body succeeding in only pulling him closer. Petyr sleepily groaned into the back of her neck and felt his hips rock forward against her backside. She held her breath when a bulge pressed along her rear. _Oh fuck_ , Sansa heard about men getting hard in their sleep and didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. Was Petyr fantasizing about someone? And a little sinful voice in the back of her mind wondered if he was thinking of her.

His hand, unconsciously pressed against her abdomen. There was no way she couldn’t feel him hardening. Sansa’s exhales were quick against the pressure of his hand and the slight movement of his hips. Petyr’s breathing slowly changed, and she could feel the heat of his mouth on the back of her neck. His hand had started caressing below her navel, skirting the edge of her knickers. Sansa knew she was wet.

There was no hiding how turned on she was. Last night she had been drugged only to wake up from terrible nightmares in the arms of a man that didn’t take advantage of her. Now a couple hours later, Sansa was wide awake and wanting the same man to touch her. She had gone completely mad.

She saw how Petyr looked at her as he was instructing the new girls and could still feel his touch and kiss. Unintentionally, Sansa arched into him, and then his hand dipped between her legs and made circles on top of the lace that covered her.

Finally, she let out the moan she had been holding in as his hips rocked up against her while his hand pressed harder. Petyr’s breath was harsh against her neck and Sansa wondered how he could still be asleep. She turned her face back to see that he was not only awake but watching her with dark eyes. The look of desire made Sansa gasp and she couldn’t look away if she wanted to.

Did she really want him to touch her more like this? His fingers pressed harder against her apex making her hips grind into his. Petyr hissed as he was just as lost as she was. Sansa reached behind her and barely grazed him.

Petyr growled deeply, and before she knew it, he was between her legs above her. Her robe completely open to him, his eyes traveled down her body clad in only a lacy bra and panties. Sansa unbuttoned the last two buttons on his shirt, and finally, he leaned down and kissed her like he did last night. The feel of his skin on hers was electrifying, and Sansa wanted more. Petyr was sucking on her tongue when he unzipped his trousers and started pushing them down, and suddenly she froze. Was she really ready for this?

Petyr read her mind, “Do you want me to stop?”

He was still lightly rocking against her, and he was rock hard beneath his black briefs. Two thin pieces of material separated them now. Her panties were soaked through, and she was sure he knew how wet he made her. Petyr’s hand was still there massaging her clit as his cock pressed against her pelvic bone.

“I don’t know,” she breathed.

“If you want me to stop, I will. I would never force you.” Petyr leaned in close and grazed her jaw with his lips. “ _Or_ … you could let me please you – all without me even putting my cock inside you. Oh, how I could make you quiver and moan and my reward would be hearing my name on your lips as I make you come.”

Petyr suckled her neck and waited for an answer, when it didn’t come, he continued his ministrations dragging the wet fabric aside. His fingers slid against her with ease making her shudder.

“Oh my God…”

“Well, you did call me Hades. And Hades took his new Queen into the underworld…”

Petyr kissed her deeply, while fingers worked harder against making her legs open wider to him. He kept thrusting against her letting Sansa feel just how hard she made him with only the soft material as a barrier. The friction was more than she could bear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me. Are you sure you don’t want me inside you?”

He slid one finger in, and the sound of his voice as he spoke made her clench him. She was very close and didn’t want him to stop what he was already doing. Sasna was still afraid, too. Her mother told her it would hurt the first time badly and Sansa knew she really wasn’t ready. Plus, Petyr was making her feel so good that she didn’t want the pain to ruin it.

“I’m not… not ready yet,” she let out shyly knowing he would be disappointed. “Are you angry?”

She felt a deep chuckle in his chest. “God no, sweetling… this is good no matter what it is.”

He spread her legs wider and ground hard into cunt, making her moan loudly. His hard cock hit a bundle of nerves that made her burn with need. He was thrusting hard against her and angled her hips to tilt up against him. It was then she could feel it building faster and faster. Never in her life when she touched herself alone did it ever feel like this. She ground against him even harder searching for that rough friction she needed.

“Yes, you’re going to come, aren’t you?” He didn’t stop as Sansa felt a wave ready to crash into her.

“Oh, dear God,” she whispered as if she didn’t want it to happen yet. Her breaths came out in short gasps as she thrust up against him hard.

Sansa closed her eyes and let it hit her. When she opened her eyes Petyr was still grinding against her mound in hard thrusts. “Sorry, I can’t stop, it’s too good.” His voice was strained. Sansa wanted him to feel some pleasure and gripped him hard through his briefs. His eyes glazed as he came pulsing in her hand.

“Oh, fucking hell…” Petyr dropped his face to her shoulder and laughed.

Sansa thought she should be offended at that and pulled away to look at him.

“Was it that bad?” All her fears came bubbling up, wanting to duck her head under the pillow.

“No, sweetling.” Petyr debated on what to say and finally just let it out. “I haven’t come in my pants since I was a schoolboy. That’s what you did to me.”

Sansa hid her smile. Petyr pulled his trousers up and gazed at her as if she were the loveliest thing to him. He lightly kissed her lips and was off the bed, walking to the wardrobe, changing his shirt.

“I daresay, we’ll have to do that again until you pay for services rendered.”

“I’m sorry?"

“You should be. I worked hard to make you come, and you didn’t give me what I asked for.”

Petyr dressed with his back to her, and Sansa wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or not. She racked her brain, trying to think of what it was he wanted when he came to the side of the bed, buttoning his shirt and leaned down to her.

“You didn’t call my name, sweetling. Something we’ll have to remedy, won’t we?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Oberyn Martell and all the awesomeness he brings....

 

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking over the messages on his mobile, it was the usual. Jon wanting the details on the deal with Martell, the endless texts from Lysa demanding his attentions, and Cersei meddling in affairs she didn’t understand. The widow was ambitious, yes, but she was blinded by power thinking it transferred to her and her son with a blink of an eye. If she had any sense, she would see Jon Arryn as a considerable threat rather than old friend and ally. Petyr considered letting the cards fall as they may in regards to both houses. Let them destroy each other, and he would still be there to pick up the pieces.

The Tyrells were rich, but didn’t command much authority, and the lesser houses were even more pathetic. With the Starks dead, the smaller families had become more vulnerable to those that would seek opportunity amongst the chaos. Some chose Arryn, others stood by the Baratheon and Lannister name as the rest seemed to flounder. Roose was one of those that found advantage in the massacre of the Starks. Once only a henchman, he and his bastard had become greedy. By taking sides with Cersei and her mad son, they were given what the Starks had left in death.

It was kept quiet in the Syndicate, and nothing reported further about the murders. Petyr debated telling Sansa about the Boltons taking over everything that once belonged to her family, but he decided against it, _for now_. Her focus needed to stay on Joffrey until the time was right. Depending on the outcome, Petyr could always use that same vengeance towards the Boltons as well. After Ramsay drugged her the other night, Sansa would have good reason to hate him and more so if she knew how his family had risen since her father’s death. All of this, Petyr could use later on. Just a little wildcard, he would tuck away until the right moment presented itself.

Kill two birds with one stone, he smiled.

Business ran smoothly the last couple of days since Alayne’s first night in the club. She surprisingly bounced back and didn’t wallow like most girls her age would after such an incident. Sansa was stronger than Petyr may have anticipated. That could work to his advantage, but he’d have to keep a watchful eye on her.

There was a spark in her that reminded him very much of her father. A decent man, Ned was but didn’t play the game with caution. What one didn’t know often is what got you killed. Ned didn’t fully understand Cersei’s protective nature in regards to her children, especially the eldest. And he certainly didn’t factor in Joffrey’s madness and willingness to kill anyone for any reason. The Starks tended to act rashly before thinking things through, and Petyr hoped that wasn’t a dominant trait in his new assistant.

Joffrey and Ramsay were two of a kind. Both sick and twisted fucks with parents that turned a blind eye to their ways – something that made Petyr warier of them than their parents. Roose could be reasoned with, Cersei could be cornered and outwitted, but Joffrey was unpredictable and Ramsay too ambitious. Ramsay, he bet, would kill his own family if it meant more power for him. Petyr needed to keep a closer eye on that boy.

Lysa didn’t disappoint and was proving to be a pebble in his shoe. Petyr’s most recent message was from Detective Brune. He said that Lysa had come to the station wanting to see reports about her family’s deceased. Being the only living relative, they couldn’t exactly deny her. Brune said she was sobbing and making a fuss over her dead sister and family, but Petyr knew better. Lysa was terribly jealous of Cat and loathed her with every fiber of her being. She didn’t give a shit about Cat or her family.

At the time of the murders, Lysa did nothing. It was Jon that made the arrangements for burial. Why was she so interested now? Brune said she hadn’t asked for anything specific, but wanted to look over the pictures and ongoing investigation. Petyr smiled to himself if she was looking to blackmail him, she was going to have a tough time of it. There was no way Lysa would go to Cersei for anything and Cersei would be the only one benefitting from such information about the crime scene. Joffrey wasn’t a suspect at all, she had nothing to worry about, and Lysa had nothing to pin Petyr with. Sooner or later, he would need a permanent solution for that woman.

There were only two things that demanded his attention right now. Martell and Sansa. Oberyn arrived in the city today, and Petyr had set everything up for the meeting tomorrow morning. He knew the man would want to party tonight and made sure he would stay at the club. Oberyn was no fool, and he and Petyr went back many years. Oberyn was one of the few within the Syndicate that Petyr actually liked a bit.

The man loved pleasure and money the most. He was a jovial fellow and spent tens of thousands when he was in town. He had the reputation of the wealthy playboy from Dorne and attracted quite of bit of attention wherever he went. The only trouble is that made their business deals all the more private and difficult to plan. The Syndicate, and Cersei in particular hated dealing with the man for he didn’t play by their rules. They put up with him only for the fact that the drug money was too good to pass up. The fact that Oberyn enjoyed being a thorn in the Syndicate’s side made Petyr like him even more.

Sansa, was something of a surprise and also heeded a warning. Petyr never denied his attraction to her, and she sensed it. He enjoyed playing with her and seeing what she was made of, but the other night was the first time Petyr had real cause for concern. Not so much for her own welfare but how seeing her in trouble made him feel. Ramsay had hurt some of his girls in the past and nothing more than irritation at the loss of revenue and the time it would take to find new girls coursed through him. He didn’t want the girls hurt, but he also didn’t want a bad reputation either. It was purely business.

Somehow the thought if he hadn’t arrived when he did, that Sansa could have been abused by Ramsay, really struck him. Petyr was protective of her in a way he had never been with anyone else, except for perhaps her mother. After the following morning, he had never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted the daughter. He had to restrain himself with everything he had not to take her without her consent. Petyr wasn’t a rapist. He could get a woman anytime he wanted. Hell, he could take Randa anytime but he didn’t want her. She was an attractive woman, but sleeping with her would complicate business.

Sleeping with Sansa would be even worse for he was beginning to actually enjoy her company. Everything he threw at her, she absorbed and was now becoming brave enough to toss back at him. Once she became more comfortable in her new role, Petyr thought it wouldn’t take much time to use her to kill Joffrey. It would set Cersei in a paranoid rage to her downfall.

Joffrey, inadvertently started a chain reaction of chaos within the Syndicate that was going to benefit Petyr immensely. The Starks were trusted and respected, and the list was growing at who could have killed them in such a cruel way. Ned, Brandon and their father before them, held a certain respect within the Syndicate. No one would have ordered their deaths without consent of several houses.

Petyr could use Roose when it was time for Cersei and Jon to fall. When all was said and done, Roose would meet an untimely death while Petyr put his people into position and slowly take over with the aid of Dorne and the Tyrells. The Tyrells were greedy for power, but Petyr had enough pull to keep them in line. Petyr made them a tremendous amount of money, and with the promise of power… it wouldn’t be a hard sell.

It had been a few days since Petyr made his new assistant shake beneath him, and he couldn’t help wanting to do it again. Instead, he was aloof and businesslike as he could see the confusion in her eyes. Petyr hadn’t touched her once since that morning and made a point of avoiding her touch all together. Partly, he needed to focus on the big deal tomorrow and not dallying with a young girl no matter how attractive she was.

Whether she wanted him or not, she didn’t show it. Sansa played the role and followed his every move. She was acting the assistant and learning the job very quickly to his pleasant surprise. Sansa and Olyvar seemed to be getting on well but Petyr needed to remind Sansa to keep her distance. She didn’t want to make friends here. He didn’t know how long Alayne would be here and didn’t want her to get too comfortable in her surroundings.

Petyr was sipping his morning coffee when the girl in question walked into his office.

“I had them finish putting away the order that came in and start stocking the bar and kitchen. The DJ will come in early as you requested and he found the music you wanted for tonight.” Sansa sat down and checked off items with the stylus on her notepad. “Oh, and I think you should re-consider Sylvia working tonight. She has to be on something because she was all over the place last night and #34 complained that she couldn’t get him off… or something like that.”

Petyr smiled to himself, she was still uncomfortable with the brothel part of his business no matter how hard she to tried to hide it. Olyvar didn’t appear to notice, but Petyr could read her like a book.

“I’ll make it up to him. Make a notation on his account, and I’ll take care of it. Ring up Sylvia and tell her to clean up or she’s finished here. I don’t want to see her until next week.” Sansa looked a bit nervous, and Petyr sighed. “You need to show authority, or they’ll walk all over you like Randa does. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I don’t let her walk all over me. I don’t even talk to her…”

“That’s my point. Avoiding her isn’t going to help you. She is a bitch, I know. You just need to beat her at her game.” Petyr sipped his coffee and regarded the girl across from him. Sansa was still quite young an inexperienced and if she couldn’t stand up to someone like Randa, she was going to have a rough time on her own.

“She’s jealous. Randa’s been kind of my head girl around here. I may have given her a bit too much power, but now that you’re here, you need to knock her down a peg or two. Show her you are my right hand and put her in her place.” He could see the wheels turning in Sansa’s head and wondered if she had the moxie to do something about it.

“I didn’t tell you – I saw her talking to Ramsay at the bar before… well, before he drugged me. Does she know what kind of man he is?” Her voice was soft but controlled, and Petyr didn’t expect this small revelation.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Slip your mind perhaps?” Petyr was still angry with Ramsay and wondered why he approached Sansa in the first place. If Myranda had anything to do with it, Petyr would tear her apart.

“I couldn’t remember everything from that night… and I didn’t want to make things worse between her and me. I thought I would just let it go.” Sansa couldn’t meet his eyes and Petyr wondered if this was going to become a bigger problem.

“Obviously, you haven’t let it go. Randa has the upper hand on you, and she knows it. You need to take control back today. I don’t need this kind of bullshit. I don’t want my assistant being seen as weak. You’re a reflection of me and how I run things. Olyvar doesn’t put up with her shit, and neither will you.” Petyr went back to his accounts with impatience and muttered under his breath, “If you can’t best a fucking whore, how will you best Joffrey?”

“Or you could just get rid of her. You said she had one foot out the door as it is.” Petyr looked up, noticing that spark back in her eyes. Although, he’d be damned if she was going to tell him how to run his business.

“You think I’m going to get rid of people because they bother you? She is still one of my best girls and in demand. Yes, I’m irritated with her, but she still makes me money. Do you plan on taking her place?” Petyr shot back and took pleasure in her shocked appearance. “Just as I thought.”

“So, I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend to work for you and yet you want me to show these girls whose boss? When are you going to do what you promised me? You haven’t shown me shit. How am I supposed to handle someone like him when I’m just doing your paperwork…”

Petyr stood up so quickly his chair almost toppled over. He strode around the desk and slammed the door shut. “I’ll teach you when I’m god damned good and ready. I do remember telling you that you would work for me, did I not?” There was fear again in her eyes, but to her credit, she held her ground. “You are here at my leisure. Right now, I have more important matters than your godforsaken revenge.”

He braced both hands on her chair and leaned over her. “I’ve spent a lot of money on you, sweetling. Do you think I let anyone freeload off me? You work for me now, and that’s the end of it. When I say you are ready, then you are ready and not before.” He moved in so close their noses almost touched.

“Don’t think for one second that I have forgotten our deal. Right now, you are receiving my protection, a roof over your head and eat better than most people. All for a little office work, I might add. I think I’m the one that has put more into this vengeance scheme than you so far. Don’t make me regret it. Are we clear?”

Sansa nodded her head but didn’t back away from him. “Good, because I hate bad investments.” Petyr moved away and opened the door. “Now, leave me alone for a while I have real work that needs attention. Be a good girl and wear that silver top and chiffon skirt tonight with your hair up.”

Petyr sat back down and didn’t even look at her. He heard Sansa get up and walk out. Only then did he release his breath in a huff. Damnit, she was getting to him, and he hated it. He needed to keep control and not let her affect him.

Petyr thought about what she said about Randa and Ramsay. If Randa sent him to prey on Sansa, he would need to deal with her. He was horrified that Ramsay drugged her. Petyr remembered laying next to her in bed as she flew from one nightmare to the next.

The way Sansa cried out, he knew Joffrey had tried to rape her and felt the slightest twinge of regret in seducing her. Petyr was only playing with her, but maybe she thought all men forced women. However, the way the girl moaned under him and ground against him in pleasure made him think twice that Sansa actually enjoyed his ministrations. She even grabbed his cock, for fucks sake. Regardless of her past, she wanted him _that_ morning.

Randa was a jealous bitch, he knew, but now he’d have to keep a careful watch on her. Ramsay was banned from the club but if she was still in contact with him, Petyr needed to know. He didn’t need a spy in his outfit. Roose was climbing the ladder quickly and he didn’t need any more ammunition. Sacking Randa right now would be too suspicious if she was involved with the Boltons. He didn’t want any more attention on his new girl if at all possible. Petyr couldn’t figure out why Randa would be interested in Ramsay in the first place. He would need to look into that relationship further after Oberyn left.

The hours passed quickly as Petyr did a walkthrough, checking if everything was ready to go for the night. The guest list was huge and very few walk-ins, if any, would be able to get in tonight. Everything about the club had a Dornish vibe to it from the cocktails to the music and dancers. Petyr knew what Oberyn liked and also knew that everything Dornish was considered exotic and hip to the Kings Landing crowd that couldn’t afford to vacation south. Petyr had considered a few times of making the switch permanent as to the style of the club but going through this effort every once in awhile made more money than a full transition. The novelty would wear off sooner or later if it were like this every night, he decided.

Petyr hadn’t seen Sansa for the rest of the day after she left his office. It was for the best, he thought. She was becoming a distraction for him, and that wasn’t good. He needed to put Sansa back as a piece instead of a player. As long as she thought she was playing, Petyr could move her as needed.

He freshened up in his office, changing into a charcoal dress shirt. He would forgo a jacket tonight, for it would be far too hot in the club with all the people. Petyr took the lift to the third floor and walked to his apartment door. He knocked and waited, yet there was nothing but silence. When Petyr opened door, he found an empty apartment. The door was ajar to the bathroom, and only a soft light from the bed was illuminating the quiet room.

“Sansa?”

She had probably gone downstairs already. Petyr walked around the room, stopping at his wardrobe. Her clothes hung neatly next to the few items he left here. Petyr couldn’t help himself fingering the delicate material and bringing it to his nose.

_God, she smelled good._

He wasn’t snooping, Petyr told himself. It was his apartment, and he had every right to look around. The bathroom was neat and clean. His razor and toothbrush where exactly where he left them. The shower still had beads of water, and Petyr could almost imagine her behind that glass. A wicked smile formed on his lips. Oh, the things he wanted to do to her.

As he walked over to the bed, he picked up the remote and turned on the television, switching it to security mode. One by one Petyr checked the footage that didn’t feed to his office. Olyvar had access there but Petyr didn’t want anyone to know he was filming each of the rooms and the office itself. He didn’t trust his girls to tell him everything that went on with clients. This way, Petyr had direct knowledge.

He knew who was telling the truth and what his clients were really up to. Not to mention, the videos were excellent forms of blackmail if necessary. The office footage alone told him he could trust Olyvar, to an extent, along with how he handled employees and clients while Petyr was gone. The man was honest if not a pain in the arse in his little infatuation with Loras Tyrell. However, Olyvar didn’t give him any reason to suspect him of anything devious.

Petyr looked at a few of the rooms and saw Randa fixing her hair. She was in full bombshell mode could make some good money. She was furious when he told her about Martell, but tonight would be insanely busy, and she’d be a fool not to give it her all. There would be many wealthy men and women here this evening.

His mobile vibrated and Petyr took it out of his pocket. Olyvar needed him downstairs. The doors opened from the lift to the main floor and club was packed to capacity. Petyr made his way to the bar seeing both Olyvar and Sansa observing the crowd.

She looked stunning. The chiffon swayed gracefully around her legs that was mesmerizing to watch. Petyr’s eyes traveled up to the form-fitting top. The spun silver clung to her every curve. Sansa’s shoulders were straight and the updo made her neck look long as he longed to caress the skin there.

Petyr lit a cigarette and came to stand by her side. “Ol’, where is he?”

Olyvar turned and nodded his head towards the main stage. Petyr looked in the same direction and saw Oberyn getting dirty with a pretty dark-haired girl. Petyr laughed to himself. Martell didn’t waste any time that was for sure.

He gazed at Sansa but she wasn’t watching the same show on stage. Petyr followed her line of sight and there were Joffrey and his friends. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Petyr knew they would be here tonight. Anyone who was anybody was here. Exhaling the smoke, he firmly gripped her upper arm as a warning.

The rimmed blue eyes turned to him with a glare of their own. Sansa tried to shrug off his hold, which only made Petyr grip her tighter.

“Ol’, what are you waiting for? Find Jasmine and get to work. He is your priority tonight.”

Olyvar downed his drink and gave Alayne a wink as he left. “On with the show.”

“Not yet, sweetling. Not yet. Don’t go chasing him. He will come to you in time.” Petyr took another long drag of his cigarette and released his hold on her signaling his bartender for a drink.

“When?” Sansa pushed the glasses up her nose, not breaking her gaze at the blonde boy across the room.

“When the time is right. Remember one thing, Alayne. Do not attack while emotional. It makes you weak and vulnerable. Do not be spontaneous in these matters. That’s why so many call me to clean up their messes. Plan, be patient, and when it’s timed right, it all goes the way you want it to.” Petyr picked up his whiskey and took a drink. “Patience, Alayne. Be smart and know your enemy before you strike. Every plan should have a contingency. You may think I’m doing nothing, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Sansa finally looked him in the eyes and studied him for truth. He detected anger in those blues that the glasses couldn’t hide. Before he could convince her, another voice filled with laughter came from behind him.

“Petyr! My dear friend, how have you been?” Oberyn patted Petyr hard on the back, making him spill his drink. He glanced up at Sansa, finding a little smirk on her lips.

“Martell, I dread your visits as usual,” Petyr japed. Oberyn really was a lot of work, but he had grown to like the man.

“Petyr,” Oberyn had draped his arm around Petyr’s neck and with his free arm fanned it out in front of them. “I will never understand a man that can throw the best party in town and never once enjoy himself. How are we even friends?”

“I’ve pondered that very question on many occasions,” he muttered while Oberyn laughed.

“Well, you give me the loveliest of both sexes and the best avenue to sell my wares…” Oberyn kissed him on the cheek, “One of these days I will get you to loosen up. Life is not worth living if you are a sober man. And you are too sober, my friend, _in all things_. When was the last time you had any fun?”

Petyr glanced at Sansa as a sinful thought came to mind. “Oh, I had loads of fun just a couple days ago, in fact.” He couldn’t help but smile into his drink, seeing her cheeks blush crimson.

“And is this your lucky girl?” Oberyn had finally noticed her and Petyr was surprised it took him this long. “She seems like your type. I must say, my dear, you make me wish to steam up those glasses of yours.”

“Easy Martell, she works for me. Not every woman wants to bed you,” Petyr teased with a hint of seriousness to his voice.

Oberyn ignored him and gently picked up Sansa’s hand, bringing to his lips. “I’ve never been more enchanted, my dear.” He smiled wickedly and turned to Petyr again, “So, you’re definitely changing things up. I didn’t think the librarian look would stir my desire. She plays aloof to hook them and then takes them upstairs to give them a good lesson, eh?” Oberyn unabashedly undressed her with his eyes and Petyr controlled his growing annoyance. “I will be a good pupil, teacher. If not, you may beat me into submission.”

“She’s not for sale, Oberyn. She’s my assistant,” Petyr played nicely. Alayne simply smiled in mock disappointment.

“Ah, that is too bad. She is truly beautiful. I bet if you let down that hair and remove those glasses she would have the eye of every man here tonight,” Oberyn smiled.

“What will you drink?” Petyr interrupted.

“What will the lady have? I owe her an apology,” Martell replied smoothly.

Petyr looked to Sansa and she was still flushed. Oberyn was a very attractive man, Petyr admitted, but somehow he didn’t care that Dornish flirt affected her so easily.

“Forgive me for being rude, Oberyn. This is Alayne. Alayne, may I introduce the biggest cad I know of… Oberyn Martell.” Petyr swallowed the last of his drink in one gulp and watched her every move.

“Mr. Martell, I’m pleased to meet you,” Sansa smiled sweetly.

“Whatever he’s told you, my dear, it’s all true,” Martell quipped with a grin.

“You _would_ take pride in fucking anything with two legs,” Petyr signaled his bartender.

“Petyr, I’ve told you many times… why limit yourself to only the women? You’re missing out of so much pleasure. What do you drink, Alayne?” Oberyn’s eyes never left her face.

“Oh… I probably shouldn’t drink since I’m working. Need to keep my wits about me.” Petyr smiled, but at the same time, he thought he heard a touch of nervousness to her voice. Ramsay drugging her was still present on her mind it seemed.

“Seriously, Petyr? You’re going to let this lovely thing miss out on a delightful night? I won’t have it.” Oberyn still held her hand and pulled Sansa to him. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Let me guess? Something fruity perhaps but not one of those silly tropical drinks. No, you exude refinement, but wine is too stiff… like your boss. He’ll drink whiskey until he dies.”

Petyr lit another cigarette to avoid rolling his eyes. The bartender waited patiently, and Petyr needed another drink. “Whiskey… double.”

“See?” Oberyn chuckled, “Give my lady here a Bees Knees. I’ll take vodka with a twist. Actually, make two of each. They have some catching up to do.” Oberyn placed a few bills on the bar and smiled at the bartender after checking him out.

“I’m not getting drunk with you tonight, Martell,” Petyr warned. The last time he let his guard down; Petyr had one of the worst hangovers in his life. Sansa tasted her drink, and she clearly liked it as he and Oberyn watched her down it with a grin. She eyed Petyr mischievously as if daring him to object.

“Fine, you can stand here and nurse that terrible fermented rye while Alayne has a good time with me. This poor girl can be bored for the rest of the week with you, but she will have fun tonight!”

Before Petyr could stop it, Oberyn pulled Sansa into the crowd and took her in his arms. Her eyes were full of alarm over his shoulder but Petyr decided to let it go for now. He shrugged at her and sipped his drink as he watched. He wondered how long it would take before she came running back to him. Martell was a notorious ladies man, and Petyr didn’t think Sansa would be able to handle him for long.

The music played on and on and Petyr couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sansa flirted and kept Oberyn’s attention. She didn’t play him like his whores would; she stayed professional swatting his hands away when they traveled too far. A few times their eyes caught each other and she had the audacity to smile at Petyr. She was learning the game but Joffrey was a different animal entirely. This act wouldn’t work on him. Joffrey saw himself as a proclaimed king and needed a queen, an unattainable seductress and something his money couldn’t buy. The blonde boy wasn't as observant as Martell.

Oberyn loved all kinds of women and could find beauty practically everywhere. Joffrey would not have looked twice at Alayne tonight as lovely as she was. As he watched them dance and flirt, Petyr wondered for a half a moment if Sansa found Oberyn attractive. Was he the kind of man that a girl like her would fancy?

Petyr eyed Olyvar and signaled him to take over. Petyr knew it was all an act, but he didn’t like Sansa having so much fun with Oberyn. Maybe he was a possessive asshole, but Sansa was his to play with. Olyvar and Jasmine cut in, and Librarian Alayne was all but forgotten. Olyvar knew Oberyn’s tastes and how to work him. It wasn’t long before he had the Dornish man taking a hit of acid from his own tongue and Petyr smiled.

Slowly, Sansa made her way back to Petyr’s side out of breath. “It’s sweltering in here, don’t you think?”

“You can finish your drink. I’ve kept an eye on it for you.” Petyr didn’t look at her and focused on the scene in front of him. “Or you could go up on stage and get in the water. It would ruin your dress, though.”

Sansa followed his eyes up to the main stage where the sheets of water flowed over the backlit glass walls. People were dancing in and around it, getting wet. He could see that several of his girls had men wrapped around their little finger. It was going to be a profitable night. As much as Oberyn infuriated him sometimes, Petyr couldn’t deny the money that rolled in when he was in town.

Petyr turned to Sansa and stubbed out his cigarette behind her. She was no longer smiling and having fun. _Good_ , he thought.

“Now what?” she said as she finished her, now warm, cocktail and eyed him with disdain.

He smiled and took her drink out of her hand, setting it on the counter. “Now that Martell is in the right hands, we need to see to our other guests.”

Petyr took Sansa by the waist and did his rounds about the club. Every time she checked her notepad, Petyr could see how high the sales were already. They mingled in the VIP lounge where he could see Randa working her charms on a politician. Petyr knew the man, but this would be the first time he would learn his carnal secrets. By the way Randa was feeding him brandy and smoking on the hookah, it would only be a matter of time. A twisted idea popped into his mind as he took Sansa back to the main lift.

“Where are we going? The night isn't over yet,” his assistant grumbled. Petyr often wondered how bored she became stuck in his apartment for so long and what she did to entertain herself.

“Oh, I’ll have control. I can see everything, sweetling. I have eyes in the back of my head,” he grinned.

He could see her confusion as they entered the third floor and not the second where his office was located. He escorted Sansa inside the apartment and walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cognac.

“What is this? I wasn’t watching this earlier,” Sansa said, appalled at the sight.

Petyr turned around to find her staring at the television screen. He forgot he left it on when Olyvar texted him. He took a sip from the snifter and tried to make out which girl it was. Her face was covered as she was going down on the man standing in front of her. He was one of Cersei’s men, Petyr remembered. The man must have received a pay raise if he was on the second floor.

“ _You record them_?”

 _Look who finally caught up_ , Petyr chuckled. He picked up the remote and clicked, bringing it back to the main screen with a dozen ongoing videos playing in real-time. Almost all the rooms were in use, and Petyr couldn’t help but see dollar signs.

“Yes, I’ve found it to be advantageous,” he mused.

“What? That you have something to wank off to or just blackmail all your clients?” she spat.

Petyr set down his drink. He had just about enough of her piety. “All of this coming from the girl that wants to seduce and kill her former boyfriend?”

“He killed my family.”

“Yes, he did. You could have taken the high road and gone to the police. You had many opportunities to leave and do just that. I didn’t hold you hostage.” The girl remained silent as Petyr slowly walked up to her. “You know it wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good going to the police. You were smarter than that and acted on it. Your gut told you that if you want your family’s murderer dead, you’d have the play the game better than him.”

“Playing the game successfully is knowing everything there is to know. Brute force doesn’t work like in the movies, sweetling. Joffrey lucked out that he and his friends didn’t get themselves killed. It was pure luck for them and the worst of luck for your family.” Petyr was so close now he could feel her breath on his face. “Knowledge is power, my dear. That is the one thing you truly must understand.”

“You and I are not mercenaries for hire, so we must use the weapon that best serves us –   _information_. That and manipulation is our game. What good does having all these henchmen on your payroll, as Cersei does, when you have no clue who your enemy really is? Everything I do for the Syndicate, serves me in some way. All these cards I tuck away and use them at the proper moment. If you’re going to learn anything from me, learn that. _Everything_ has a purpose. Look for what is hidden and use it to your advantage. Knowing their weaknesses is invaluable.”

Petyr looked at the screen and debated on whether to really show her. He hadn’t used the corridors for ages except to fix equipment. Once he installed the cameras, he didn’t have use for the passageways anymore except to occasionally hide things. Petyr took her hand and led her out of the apartment and down the hallway to a locked door next to the service lift. He unlocked it and pulled her inside.

This was the first time Sansa really pulled back and resisted him. They stood at the top of a poorly lit stairwell. “Where are you taking me?” Her voice trembled slightly, and Petyr tried not to smile.

“You want to learn? Come with me.” Petyr held out his hand and waited. Sansa weighed her decision too slowly when he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. “You’re probably wondering why you couldn’t find the stairs earlier, I’m sure. There is another stairwell on the other side of the building in case of fire, but this one is kept private for a reason.”

They came to the second floor, and he opened a narrow door into a dark corridor. “You’re not afraid of the dark are you?” he teased.

Sansa hesitated for a minute and when he started walking ahead, but she ended up following him. It was a bit musty in here since he didn’t use these passageways much anymore. But they were thankfully free of cobwebs and heavy dust. Petyr’s eyes adjusted, and he could see the hints of light ahead.

“Be sure not to trip on any cords and wires. I’d hate for you to screw up my system.”

He felt her catch up to him, taking his hand, and Petyr smiled. The first stream of light was ahead as he halted Sansa to stop. The camera was fixed against the glass and recording. Before he had a more sophisticated video network, he had to come down here more often to check on the habits of his clients. Now, he only came in here to repair things and was grateful it wasn’t often. It was rather cramped in here, not that he was ever claustrophobic.

Each of the mirrors were carefully placed in the rooms, and they were all different sizes and designs as not to create suspicion. Petyr couldn’t use the surveillance cameras he used in the club, for they were too obvious. And the smaller cameras that could have been placed in the wall or ceiling still didn’t give him a clear enough picture to use if he needed it. Behind the two-way mirrors worked the best, and no one suspected a thing.

The first room they came to was lit, but empty and Petyr pulled her along further. Now Sansa knew where she was as her hand tightened in his. The next room, Petyr took a look and smiled. He pulled Sansa in front of him and held her to him.

“What do you see?” he whispered in her ear.

Her body was rigid against him when he felt her hold her breath. She didn’t need to answer, because they both saw the same woman from the video upstairs on her knees giving head to the man. He was holding her head roughly now as his own was thrown back in pleasure.

Sansa tried to move away but Petyr held her tight to him and dragged her along further down the corridor. The next light was a bit bigger due to the mirror. The camera was labeled #3 and Petyr knew it was Violet. Sansa was going to get a severe education tonight, he grinned.

He held her to him, making her watch. Violet was in little girl mode while the man had her across his lap as he spanked her bare bottom. The walls were insulated, and they couldn’t hear but she was writhing and screaming by the looks of it.

“He’s hurting her,” Sansa whispered in horror.

“No, he’s not. She loves this shit and actually gets off on it. If we watch long enough, you’ll see.” Petyr kept one hand on her stomach and the other clasped to her hip.

“I don’t want to watch this,” she shuddered.

“You’re right, let’s find something at least entertaining, shall we?” Petyr teased darkly.

He pulled her a little harder this time as Sansa was starting to resist. He knew whose room was next and not wanting to scare her, he tried to draw her quickly past it when she stalled. It was Gabrielle’s room. She had a man tied down and was riding him like a stallion while choking him. Petyr looked at Sansa’s face, and her eyes could have popped out of her head they were so wide.He yanked on her arm and tore her gaze away. Sansa clearly had never seen anything like that before, he mused.

The next room was Jasmine’s and Petyr saw they had already got things started. He grabbed Sansa by the waist and pushed her closer to the mirror with his body pressed against her.

“What do you see, sweetling?” he murmured.

Her breathing was quick under his hand, and her heart was thumping so hard he could feel it in his chest. Petyr gazed over her shoulder and watched the exotic looking girl spread out on the edge of the bed, completely nude. Oberyn was between her legs and eating her out like a champion.

Petyr smiled against her ear and breathed deeply, “Tell me what you see.”

When Sansa didn’t speak, he pulled her tighter against him and let his hand slowly snake down until she stopped him. Petyr chuckled and could feel the heat of her skin along her exposed neck.

Her voice cracked, “Why are you showing me this?”

Petyr hummed along her neck and felt her shiver. “You wanted me to teach you…” he purred. His free hand cupped a breast and gave a light squeeze. “I’m teaching you.”

He looked back at the scene before them and nipped her earlobe. “ _That_ is what men want to do to you, sweetling. You need to know it and take that power and wield it. By hinting at what they wish they could do to you, will you overpower them. Make them believe you want them to fuck you. Make Joffrey want you. He’s had many of my girls and never been pleased. He’s more of a sadist I must say… if that’s what gets him off. Or he hasn’t a clue what to do with his little prick.”

The girl was writhing in pleasure as Oberyn worked his mouth and fingers on her. Sansa’s breathing hitched and Petyr guessed this was new to her as well. Oh, she was such a delectable little pupil. Petyr let his hand drift a little lower and suddenly pulled her hard against him.

“Do you like that? What he’s doing to her?” he whispered.

Sansa was silent when Petyr decided he wanted to make her fall apart – right here, right now. He wasn’t a voyeur and never took enjoyment watching any of this, but she was turned on, he could tell. Sansa was trying so hard to maintain composure, but after that morning, Petyr could feel the way her breathing changed and the rapid beat of her heart. His little bird just couldn’t help herself, he grinned wickedly.

“You know... this is what Martell wanted to do to you an hour ago? If you had given him half a chance, he would have loved to take you just like her. Would you have liked his mouth on you?” Petyr breathed as he took her earlobe into his mouth and felt her tremble. His tongue toyed with her earring, and she slumped against him slightly.

“He is quite the lover, I assure you. Look at the way he eats her out. She’s not faking it. Oh no, he has the control here. We’ll have to have a word with her about that…” Petyr let his hand drift lower and cupped her through her black chiffon skirt. She bit back a moan when his lips found a pulse beneath her jaw.

“Or perhaps it isn’t him you want.” He suckled that pulse point and felt her begin to give in like that morning. Petyr smiled against her skin and made slow circles between her legs.  Sansa involuntary arched into him, making him harden. He knew she could feel him and pressed firmer along her backside.

Petyr massaged her breast and the apex between her thighs. Lifting her skirt, his hand slipped under her lacy knickers, discovering her wetness. Petyr groaned into her neck and slid his fingers along her sex. She couldn’t hold in the moan this time and clutched onto his arm for stability.

“Is it my mouth you want right here?” His words matched the movement of his fingers and Sansa bucked. “All you have to do is tell me, my sweetling. I will give you what you’re aching for.”

There was a narrow crate behind him. Taking a step back, Petyr settled back on it bringing her with him. Sansa gasped and tried to get up, but wriggling against him only made him harder and he groaned deeply. Petyr hauled her back into his arms and thrust his knee between hers, spreading her legs. She struggled again as Petyr brought his arm under one leg draping it over his own with his hand finding it’s way back inside her panties. She was wide open to him now as she whimpered.

“Ah, take a look, sweetling… he’s going to fuck her.” Oberyn had the girl’s legs pushed back almost to her ears. “Do you know how much I wanted to fuck you the other day? To feel this,” Petyr inserted a finger and pumped slowly, “wrapped around me?”

Oberyn was fucking the girl hard in the position he had her on the bed. “Look at her, Sansa. She’s loving it.” Petyr pumped his fingers in time with the scene they were watching and felt her clench him tight. Sansa was gasping for air as worked her hard.

“No… Oh God, no…” she whimpered. He felt her thighs go rigid against him.

“Oh yes, that’s it baby. I want you to come for me.” He worked her faster and harder as she surrendered to him. “Say my name… say it,” Petyr demanded harshly. All too quickly, she tensed in his arms and silently cried out into his neck. Sansa pulsed around his fingers a few more times, then suddenly she was pushing his hands away.

Petyr let her get up and watched as she adjusted her skirt over the luscious legs that shook in the aftermath. He was still hard and wanted nothing more than to push her against the wall and take her from behind.

No, he didn’t want to fuck her in here. When he did take her, he wanted to have comfort and time to do as he pleased. Oh, Petyr could think of so many sinful things to do to her. Unconsciously, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted her. Oh fuck, Sansa tasted as good as he hoped she would.

His gaze never left hers as he cleaned his index finger. God, this girl really had no idea the effect she had on him. It was all he could do to not fuck her senseless right now. The movement behind her caught his eye and she turned to see what he was staring at. Olyvar was in on the action, and both men were teaming up on the one girl. That must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, for Sansa took off and fled down the corridor.

 _Shit_.

Petyr sat there for a moment and willed himself to get control. He didn’t want to come in his pants for a second time, but it was dangerously close to happening. He took a few minutes and then got up, making his way back to the door. Once in the light, he dusted himself off and adjusted his trousers. He would have to jerk off later or suffer from the worst case of blue balls tonight. Just as he was about to head to the main floor, a message came across his mobile from Brune.

Petyr cursed loudly, slumping against the wall.

_Roose Bolton is dead._

 

* * *

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

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Sansa ran back to the apartment and slammed the door. Her legs were shaking and could still feel his touch as she slumped against the door. What the hell was wrong with her? She let Petyr practically fuck her while being total voyeurs.

She really didn’t know what sex was. Sansa had watched some porn online, but it was relatively tame stuff. Just normal sex, really. Or what she thought was normal. She had to admit it; she was a bit of naïve prude. The person she was before the murders would have never let a man like Petyr do that to her. Hell, she never would have ever met a man like him before all this.

Sliding down the door onto the floor, tears ran down her cheeks. What was she doing here? Sansa no longer knew. She thought she had a plan but Petyr was right. It would take some time getting to Joffrey unless she just killed him outright in the club the next time she saw him. Petyr’s warning ran through her mind. He didn’t want to be exposed, and she didn’t doubt he’d probably kill her to keep that from happening.

_Petyr_

God, why was she letting him do this to her? Watching those women, Sansa knew she couldn’t fake that. If that’s what Joffrey wanted, Sansa was fucked. He’d never believe her as a seductress. Hell, she tried to stop Petyr a few times before she finally gave up and let him finger her to orgasm. She felt how hard he was and was honestly surprised he didn’t try to take her in the dark corridor. Petyr’s sensuous voice in her ear while watching Oberyn give that girl pleasure… she couldn’t stop her body when her mind was screaming no.

Perhaps flirting with Oberyn wasn’t such a good idea. It was innocent at first; she knew Petyr probably wouldn’t allow the man too many liberties. Oberyn was very attractive and relatively a man that would have caught her eye once. Sansa liked the way he flirted with her, and all too aware of Petyr’s eyes on them.

Oberyn was a good dancer and she was beginning to have fun when she caught her boss’s stare. Petyr didn’t step in or stop it. He merely observed from his stance by the bar. When Sansa returned to him, he was rigid and aloof. His words said he didn’t care, but his body language and refusal to meet her eyes told her he didn’t like her flirting with Martell.

As they toured around the club, a little part of her was thrilled Petyr was jealous. That was until he dragged her into that secret corridor. Sansa didn’t want to watch, but at the same time, she couldn’t tear her eyes away either.

There was something raw and completely taboo about sex and what turned people on. Men came here to attain what they couldn’t get in the real world. Was this the kind of weird shit that men really wanted in a woman? To be an innocent girl, a virgin… let them fuck you they way they think you would like it… or dominate them and make them beg for it. Sansa always thought porn was ridiculous at the way they fake screamed and put on a show. Clearly, there were people that wanted just that in real life.

Sansa wondered what type Petyr was. He would never allow anyone to tie him up, she guessed immediately. He didn’t seem the type that lusted after frilly, little girls. When she watched Oberyn, she couldn’t stop imagining; that’s how Petyr would be in bed. He would be the dominant one. He would have to be since Sansa was still a virgin. He took control that morning, and she let him until she felt his pants come down and her nerves took the reigns. 

Tonight, Petyr retook control and she hated herself. She hated that she liked it. Oberyn didn’t arouse Sansa at all as she watched him. No, she saw herself on that bed, but it was Petyr’s head between her legs, making her writhe in passion. It was Petyr pulling her knees up and fucking her deep.

Sansa wiped the tears from her cheeks. She was turning into a slut. God, what would her parents think of her right now? They would be ashamed, she told herself. They wouldn’t want this for her. She had access to some of the petty cash needed for the bars. It wouldn’t be much, but perhaps she could get far enough out of Kings Landing. Sansa had beautiful clothes now and maybe could find someone that made fake ids or even get a job somewhere. She could hide away, couldn’t she?

What was the use? Petyr would find her. If Sansa stole from him and took off, she bet her life that he wouldn’t just let her walk away. How far would she even get? The soft threat echoed in her head.

_I hate bad investments_

Petyr helping her kill Joffrey was the deal after all. A million other fears came to mind. Could she really kill him? Was she able to take someone’s life, even if it was a piece of shit like Joffrey or Ramsay? So many things could go wrong. What if she fucked it up? Sansa could be dead or worse. She didn’t want to think of what Joffrey would do to her if…

If… if… _what if_ … God, she was going mad. Even if she did kill Joffrey, what then? Would Petyr let her go? Would she want to go? What would she even do after all was said and done? Sansa was more confused now than when this whole thing started. Sansa kicked off her heels and stood up. Her inner thighs were still sticky and all she wanted was a hot bath. Baths always seemed to calm her nerves in the past, and she needed to sever these flaming nerve endings more than ever.

Sansa locked the door and laughed at herself. If Petyr wanted in, there was no stopping him. He had keys to everything. She didn’t care anymore. Fuck Petyr and his manipulative ways. He could go to hell, she thought as she stripped off the skirt and top. She walked to the bathroom in her knickers, grabbed the robe, shutting the door… just in case he did decide to pay her a visit again.

The hot water and bubbles soothed her very soul. The products Martin gave her were a godsend. Everything smelled so good she could almost eat it. Sansa needed to let her mind relax. She breathed deeply and allowed herself to let go. She felt clean again but that feeling didn’t last. She thought of her family and it didn’t matter what they would think of her now. They were dead and were never coming back. Sansa didn’t believe in religion or had ever been a spiritual person. Dead was dead. There was no heaven where they would all meet again.

You had one life and then oblivion. The only thing Sansa could rely on was herself. She could either become someone else or she would forever come back to this moment and feel guilty all over again. Sansa, no matter how hard she tried, couldn’t let her old self go entirely.

The other problem plaguing her mind was the man she was inextricably tied to. Petyr scared the shit out of her on so many different levels. He switched moods on a dime. He was warm and funny one moment to seducing and threatening her the next.

She didn’t know why she was so fascinated and attracted to him. Sansa failed miserably trying to seduce him, and in turn, he was making her want him more and more. God, she wanted him so badly tonight. Watching Oberyn and feeling Petyr was too much and too good. She wanted to feel good.

Would it be so bad to want a man like him? He was protecting her. He did save her life when he didn’t have to. Based on tonight and that morning, Sansa knew for sure he was attracted to her, and more importantly, he wanted her just as badly, yet he didn’t force her. When she told him she wasn’t ready, he respected her. Even downstairs, he let her go. Why was he waiting?

Sansa was scared. Scared of Joffrey, Ramsay, Myranda, Aunt Lysa, Petyr… but most of all, she was scared of herself and what she was becoming.

 

“Don’t fall asleep. I’d hate for you to drown,” a soft voice drawled.

Sansa yelped. How long had Petyr been sitting there watching her? She must have dozed off if she didn’t even hear him enter the bathroom. The bubbles barely covered her but Petyr wasn’t even looking at her as he sat on the marble edge of the tub near her feet. She tried to cover herself with the remaining bubbles slowly fading away in the water.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded quietly.

“I wanted to talk to you, and it couldn’t wait until the morning,” Petyr answered nonchalantly.

“What could be so important that you couldn’t wait until I was at least decent?” she asked. “Is Joffrey dead?”

“No, but Roose Bolton is,” he finished.

Bolton was dead. What did Sansa care? Good, she thought. He was an arsehole anyway. Like father, like son. She gave Petyr a look showing she didn’t give a shite.

“You might want to wipe that smug look off your face. This does present some potential problems.” Petyr wasn’t playing with her and Sansa dropped the smirk from her lips.

“Roose was nobody. Why should we care if he’s dead?” she asked.

“Because Ramsay will become the head of the house now, and that means I will have to deal with him in regards to business.”

“I fail to see the problem. Roose was nobody, and Ramsay is just a thug. Why will the Syndicate care about his lowly shite of a house?” Sansa toyed with the sponge in the water and heard Petyr sigh.

“Because the Boltons have been given your family’s former station within the Syndicate. Ramsay has quite a bit of power now, and with Cersei, I believe, as his ally… we’ll need to be very careful of him. He had his eye on you for some reason, and with his father dead, I cannot dismiss him as easily as before.”

Sansa was dumbfounded. Boltons in her home and given everything her family used to have was just another shot in the shoulder. Roose was dead, and now Ramsay ran everything. He would be the new muscle in town. She didn’t hear any fear in Petyr’s voice, but he knew it was going to be an issue.

“How long have you known?” Sansa leaned to the side of the tub and grabbed a large towel.

“Just now.”

“No, how long have the Boltons been given our old position?” she retorted.

“Not very long, which is why it is surprising that Ramsay killed his father so quickly. He has to know that many will suspect him. Perhaps he is banking on the still fresh wounds of your father’s death as to create suspicion elsewhere.”

Petyr still refused to look at Sansa as she wrapped the towel around herself in the water before standing up.

“You’ve known all of this and didn’t tell me?” she glared, stepping out of the tub and grabbed another dry towel.

“I’m telling you now,” Petyr added with infuriating calmness as if he were discussing the weather.

Petyr didn’t trust her with the information is what he meant. But suddenly, in her anger, something he said stuck in her mind.

“Wait, you think Ramsay killed him?” Sansa turned and looked at him. This time Petyr eyes were on her and didn’t waver.

“I’m positive. I can't think of anyone else that has so much to gain as Ramsay. I had threatened him with his father several times, and it wouldn’t surprise me that Ramsay had enough of being held back. The problem with Ramsay and Joffrey is that they are unpredictable and vicious. They are worse than their parents. Roose, regardless of what he was, tried to keep his son in check because of how it reflected upon him. Now, if the Syndicate allows it, Ramsay will be the head of his own house and more difficult to get rid of. I can see him being a potential headache. Roose I could manipulate, but this bastard is going to be trouble.”

Petyr drained the tub and gauged her reaction. Sansa was angry that he didn’t tell her sooner, but understood why. He was letting her deal with one thing at a time. Sansa had the dry towel around her and dropped the damp one to the floor. She walked over to stand in front of him. He didn’t move to touch her at all but kept his eyes on hers. Sansa sat down on the marble next to him.

“So, what do we do now?”

Petyr tilted her chin, so their eyes met. “Right now, we watch him. If he’s ruthless enough to kill his own father for power, I will need to be more mindful of him. I want you to stay away from him. If you see Ramsay and Myranda together again, I want you to tell me immediately, understood?”

“I thought you banned him, though. I won’t be seeing him outside the club, will I?”

“If the Syndicate validates him, I can’t exactly disregard him as I could before. I can still refuse him to have another girl again based on prior behavior, but he will be able to come to the club. There’s only so much power I wield on that end.” Petyr stroked along her jaw in thought and Sansa liked it when he was tender like this. “I must plant seeds that he cannot be trusted and see what happens. Ramsay isn’t stupid and reckless like Joffrey, and that has me on edge.”

Sansa speculated what was going on in that mind of his. “I’m still in if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Finally, he gave her a real smile that reached his eyes. “I never doubted it.” Petyr leaned in, and she could feel his minty breath against her skin. “We could use this to our advantage in regards to Joffrey. I’ll need to consult my chessboard and magic eight ball first.”

Sansa smiled as a small chuckle escaped her lips. Petyr was so close; Sansa could see the vibrant colours in his eyes. She gazed at his lips and wanted him to kiss her. She waited and he still didn’t move to touch her except for the gentle caress on her jaw. Did he know what he was doing to her? Of course, he did, but she wanted it all the same. For some reason, when Petyr touched and kissed her, it made Sansa feel human again.

But the moment passed and he backed away. “I need some sleep. The meeting is tomorrow morning.”

“I’m assuming you don’t want me to come downstairs,” she pondered aloud.

“You have no place there. This isn’t something you need to be involved in. It would be highly suspicious to have you there in any capacity even if I told them who you are to me. This is for the House Elders to establish a new deal with Dorne, nothing more.” Petyr left her sitting there as he walked out of the bathroom.

“Then what?” Sansa called out to him before he reached the front door.

“I alter my original plans. I need to figure out this Ramsay fellow. I just may need to remove Joffrey earlier than I anticipated.” Petyr turned around and gave her a wide grin, “Don’t worry sweetling. I’ll keep you updated. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Sansa held the towel firmly and followed him to the door. “You’re not staying here tonight, are you?”

Petyr chuckled deeply, “I have to be up early in the morning. I’m not driving all the way to my house on the point and back for only a couple hours sleep.”

Sansa unconsciously tightened her hand on the towel as he raked his eyes up her body.

“Do me a favour tonight, sweetling. Stay on your side of the bed this time.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay....moving right along. After this chapter, it's gonna start getting ugly.

 

 

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

 

 

 

 

It was more than two hours later when Petyr returned. Sansa was already in bed pretending to be sleeping. She couldn’t have fallen asleep if she tried knowing he was coming back tonight. She lay on her side with the duvet pulled up to her face. Thankfully, the room was dark with only a hint of light from the window.

The turning of the lock and soft click of the door sounded as Petyr entered the room silently. Sansa dared not open her eyes or acknowledge him at all. Let him believe she was sleeping, she fumed. He didn’t check on or speak to her at all. The faint scent of cigars and cognac filled her senses as she heard a belt unbuckle. The popping of buttons one by one followed as the sounds of him disrobing by the wardrobe made her hold her breath.

Sansa waited for him to slip into the sheets, but instead, she heard him pad softly to the bathroom and close the door. Only when the shower turned on, did she release her breath. She was never going to be used to him sleeping here. Such an odd thing, she thought. It’s his place and he’s already been intimate with her, yet he made her a nervous wreck at the idea of him staying the night. They weren’t dating, they weren’t a couple in any way, hell they weren’t even lovers. Bosses didn’t exactly share a bed with their employee.

Petyr took his sweet time and she wondered briefly if he was all right after hearing a soft groan. After a spell, the shower had ceased and the door opened, shining a bright light in the darkness. Humidity filled the room from the steam and Sansa snuggled deeper into the covers awaiting the inevitable. The light switched off while his bare feet padded across the hardwood floor to his side of the bed.

 _His side_ , she thought wildly.

Sansa was still as the dead, when the covers pulled back and Petyr slid inside. The musky scent from the club, now gone, had been replaced by the freshness of her soap. Sansa’s back was to him as she could feel him getting comfortable. He didn’t speak to her or anything at all and Sansa wasn’t sure if she was grateful or slightly disappointed. Time moved at a snail’s pace and she wondered if Petyr was asleep. Slowly, she turned on her back and waited for a long time. His breathing was even, barely made a sound.

_At least he doesn’t snore._

Sansa turned her head slightly and chanced a look at him. Petyr was lying on his back with his arm across his stomach. With his eyes closed, Sansa thought he looked very different like this. The soft moonlight erased the lines on his face and he seemed years younger. Petyr wasn’t wearing a shirt and Sansa prayed he had something on underneath.

“You’re not fooling anyone. Go to sleep,” his deep and tired voice whispered.

With that, Sansa shut her eyes and turned her back to him once again in embarrassment. She didn’t know how long it took but finally sleep came. Nightmares didn’t plague her tonight. Her dreams were instead filled of him.

Her mind took a break from the harsh reality giving her a sweet sense of fantasy. She was the innocent Persephone picking wildflowers in a beautiful meadow. The cool breeze picked up her long auburn hair and ruffled the folds of her skirt. The earth opened up and a man in long, black robes grabbed her around her waist lifting her to him.

Down, down, down they went deeper inside Mother Earth and further away from the life she once knew. She heard her mother’s cries as the void swallowed them whole. The man carried her into his dark world. The sunlight faded away to torches and bonfires that lit the cavernous lair. He didn’t seek to woo her affections as he made her his Queen of the Underworld. Hades, her new husband, wined and dined her to all the fruits from the lands above. He offered her the ripe pomegranate and Persephone took it willing, eating several seeds.

The rich juice was still on her lips when he tasted them. His mouth was on hers when he pulled the dress from her body. Her crown of flowers was replaced with one heavy with diamonds, the jewel of the deep earth. He laid his new queen down and ravaged her. It was neither gentle nor sweet lovemaking. The foreboding god took her innocence as pain mingled with pleasure. And that desire grew and grew as her new husband plundered the core of her that made her gasp and moan. With each sound, it only spurred him to move faster and harder making the girl buck and cling to him. All the unspeakable and forbidden desires were wrapped up in her dark lover as her innocence shattered into oblivion along with her former life. She was truly now his queen of all things.

A soft voice of her mother came not from the world above but somewhere beyond the mist of his lair. It echoed along the River Styx, a vast marsh in the Underworld. Charon ferried the boat along the bank and Sansa was where Persephone once stood.

Her mother was in the boat calling Sansa to join her and her family them in the realm of the dead. Her mother’s hand was outstretched and reaching for her as their fingertips brushed. Sansa had no coins for the ferryman, but it didn’t matter. She stepped back and stared at her mother.

She wasn’t Sansa anymore. She no longer was the naïve girl that was saved amongst her dead family. She was Persephone now, but this goddess’s daughter would not leave to join her mother every spring. No, this daughter was now the Queen of the Underworld, and she wanted to rule by her King’s side. The guilt was left behind on that river of death as she returned to the bed of her husband and lover.

The sheets were clean and cool and she sought the warmth of his body. The young queen nestled into the back of her king wrapping a sleepy arm around his waist. His skin was soft and lightly damp hair tickled her nose as she nuzzled it deeper into his neck. A hand laced its strong fingers through her delicate ones bringing her arm tighter around him and pulled her firmly against his backside. The soothing feel of his heartbeat and measured breathing lulled the girl back to dreamless sleep.

Sansa slowly awoke to the scent of him on the pillow. She was laying face down on his side of the bed with his pillow wrapped in her arms. The morning light poured through the curtains and Sansa looked around the apartment. Petyr was gone.

_The meeting._

Sansa glanced at the clock reading it was after ten. She never slept this late. God, that dream she had, it felt so real. She could feel his warm body, and the smell of him was still so strong. Sansa rolled onto her back feeling paper beneath it. She pulled it out and gazed at his elegant handwriting.

 _You may use the office._ _You might just learn something._

Petyr didn’t say what time they were meeting this morning and as far as she knew it could already be over. Sansa dressed quickly, not bothering with makeup or styling her hair as she pulled it into a simple ponytail. She almost forgot her glasses as she grabbed her notepad and hustled out the door.

The office door was open, and Sansa was hoping Olyvar wasn’t coming in early today. The room was empty and she kicked off her shoes, sitting at Petyr’s desk. He had made coffee, and it was still hot. It couldn’t have been long since he left, she gathered. The flatscreen was on, set on a section of the VIP lounge. Several men, including Petyr and what seemed like bodyguards were casually sitting around one of the larger round tables.

Sansa poured herself a cup of Petyr’s strong coffee and watched, wishing there was sound so she could follow along. After a short time, she realized she didn’t need it. Petyr said it was a business deal, one being brokered with Dorne.

Dorne was one of the Syndicate’s largest suppliers of drugs into the city. With Robert Baratheon dead and gone, it would serve Martell’s interest to make a new alliance. Not only that, but Roose Bolton's sudden death would surely be a topic of conversation today as well.

Sansa recognized several faces. There were men loyal to the Lannisters, Baratheons, and a few she knew that was true to her late father. An older well-dressed lady sat silently with a frown on her face and Sansa could see the handsome Loras Tyrell press his hand to her arm. Sansa thought he was the bees knees a few years ago, but she never knew his tastes weren't for girls.

Jon Arryn was seated next to a very somber Petyr. She could see Petyr studying every man’s poker face, and by the looks of it, he rarely spoke. His eyes were focused on the people directly across from him. Cersei was drinking a cup of coffee, and then Sansa saw him. Joffrey was leaning all the way back with his feet on the table.

_Rude and arrogant wanker._

Sansa didn’t care for any of the people at this meeting, but Joffrey acted like he was king and holding court. She could see his mother trying to make him behave, but he was having none of it. The blonde was arguing in such a way that led Sansa to believe the older house leaders had enough of his childish antics. Robert’s son or not, he was not going to be the master here.

The only one that appeared slightly amused was Oberyn. He leisurely smoked his cigar, and it was clear that he was taunting the boy. Nothing seemed to bother this man, Sansa smiled. That smile died when an unexpected man entered the room. Sansa couldn’t see him, but every bodyguard stood and had a hand on their weapon. Everyone’s attention was on the uninvited guest. Sansa caught Petyr’s glance at the camera. He knew she would be watching.

Ramsay sauntered his way around the table as Sansa almost spat out her coffee. Jon Arryn directed his man to pat the dark-haired boy down. Ramsay put his hands up and complied with an odd smile on his face. Everything about him creeped her out. Sansa had Joffrey pegged, but Ramsay was an empty slate. She could see why it bothered Petyr.

Satisfied that Ramsay wasn’t wielding a weapon, the man let him go. Sansa watched as an argument seemed to commence in regards to the boy’s presence. Petyr was talking now, and by his gestures, she guessed he was trying to plant those seeds he spoke about earlier.

Arryn and a few other men, along with the Tyrell woman nodded in agreement, but it was Cersei that interrupted. Petyr, was right, she was the Bolton’s ally. Sansa wondered if Joffrey hadn’t botched his killing spree, would Cersei have attempted to have her family killed anyway? Her father never liked the Lannisters but endured them because of his long friendship with Robert. The Boltons would do anything for power and money, and her father’s death gave them just that.

Ramsay was speaking now, and Sansa imagined he was pleading his case. The others listened as he and Cersei spoke in turns. Oberyn’s face was no longer filled with humour, and Petyr’s hand pressed against his shoulder, willing him it appeared to stay calm.

Sansa figured the Lannisters would want someone like Ramsay – someone they could buy loyalty from. With him as the new muscle, the Lannisters would have even more power. The Boltons had a terrible reputation for brutality, and Sansa’s father was the only man that kept it at bay. Under Joffrey and Cersei, it would not be pretty. The other elders seemed to have sensed it too by the looks on their faces.

The Tyrell woman was not pleased and kept quiet, but Jon Arryn seemed to want none of it. He was a somewhat fair man from what she heard from her father and Robb talking in his study. If anyone were going to be the head after Baratheon’s death, he would be a likely choice.

As Arryn left, Sansa spied a wistful smile on Cersei’s face. Petyr caught it as well, for his stare was fixed on her before Martell grabbed his attention. Then men left the table and talked privately, but Petyr was fully aware of eyes upon them. Clearly, Oberyn was not pleased with the new arrangement, but Petyr placated him. It seemed to work for now. Most likely the two men would meet privately before Oberyn left the city, Sansa was sure of it.

One by one, the room emptied, but Ramsay was relaxing while feasting on a pastry with one leg draped over the arm of his chair. Petyr held his ground and stared at the boy as if challenging him. The two men talked for a short time, but it was clear Petyr didn’t want to deal with him any longer. He tapped on his mobile and dropped it in his pocket. Suddenly, Sansa felt her own phone buzz.

_Call me_

She rang him up and watched as he held his hand out to Ramsay to silence him. Petyr answered and Sansa could hear the boy in the background exerting his newfound power as the head of his own house.

“Yes?”

“I need you desperately. There’s a fucking areshole harassing my boss, we really should do something about it,” she grinned.

Sansa could see Petyr suppressing a smirk. “I’ll be right there. Ramsay, I’m sorr…”

The call ended, but she knew that Petyr was dismissing Ramsay for business. The boy shrugged his shoulders without a care in the world, and Sansa wondered what his game was.

When Petyr finally entered the office, Sansa could see he was irritated.

“They’re all gone now,” he said wearily.

Sansa stood from his chair and walked around the desk. She took off the glasses and rested them on top of her head. As her fingers swept a strand of his hair away from his forehead, Petyr caught her hand in his.

“Do you want to tell me, or is this none of my business as well?” she whispered.

Petyr smiled and kissed the inside of her wrist, “Tell me what you learned, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

“And if I’m wrong?” she teased.

“You’re a smart girl,” he countered. “Besides, I think I’m going to enjoy serving that blonde fuckers head to you on a platter.”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

[ ](https://postimages.org/)

 

 

 

 

Sansa had been reasonably close in her assumption of what happened during that morning meeting. The pride shown in Petyr’s eyes at her intelligence. She was starting to read people better, and she understood why Petyr wanted her to observe from the office.

Just as he predicted, Ramsay was given his father’s role, but Jon Arryn insisted it would be trial by fire in a sense before he’d give any consent or support to the boy’s claim. Jon, just as Petyr thought, believed that Ramsay killed his father. However, the boy made sure he had an alibi and was supposedly seen at a pub during the time his father was murdered.

With the Stark murders still ever-present and wild accusations of who ordered such a mass killing that included children, everyone was now on edge that a serial killer could be on the loose within the Syndicate. Or worse, a hitman was systematically taking out House elders.

Petyr said Joffrey’s name did come up early in the meeting because of the slight Ned created by refusing to give his daughter’s hand in marriage. Cersei had objected that it had no bearing for Joffrey also had a convenient alibi for the night in question.

Only Jon and Oberyn voiced opinions that it was highly suspicious in such a short time, three prominent men were killed off. Martell didn’t seem to care about offending anyone in the room. Dorne was outside the Syndicate but even he had respect for at least the Starks. The Tyrell’s had stayed mostly quiet during the meeting, and it wasn’t to Petyr’s surprise either. Olenna, the elderly lady that sat with Loras, was a shrewd player and seemed to be waiting to see what happened next.

Sansa remembered Petyr saying before he had connections with the Tyrells and didn’t seem to worry about their role as of yet. The Lannisters still had the most significant target on their back and no strong Baratheon to shield them now. Sansa guessed that if another hit were imminent, it would most likely be Jon Arryn. He was the biggest threat to Cersei for power, in her mind. Strangely, no one appeared to suspect the observant club owner in anything. Seemingly, Petyr had nothing to gain by killing the Starks or Roose Bolton. His wealth depended on the Houses working together, or so they thought.

Petyr talked with Sansa for some time that morning until Olyvar arrived. They both were curious at the game Ramsay was playing. Either he knocked off his father to take control to be the head of that house and was satisfied with the position of power it gave him… or he was after something more. One thing at a time, Petyr told her. Joffrey was the top priority. Sansa didn’t ask Petyr how he planned to kill the obnoxious boy and what the fallout would be. First, he needed to teach her how to seduce and bring Joffrey to her.

Olyvar strode into the office with a smile for Alayne and poured himself a cup of coffee. “What’s on the books for tonight, boss?” Sansa was curious about how Olyvar could always be in a good mood. He made her smile, but Petyr’s words wiped it away.

“First off, I won’t be here tonight,” Petyr sipped his coffee and eyed Sansa’s reaction. “I need you to hold down the fort. I have business to attend to elsewhere and won’t return until late.”

Olyvar wasn’t phased one bit as this seemed to be a usual task for him. “Ol’ be sure to keep careful watch if Ramsay Bolton is in the club. I want to know everything he does, who he talks to, what he is drinking… _everything_.”

“So, he’s been validated, has he? Well, if that doesn’t just ruin my fun. I was truly hoping he’d show up so his arse could be kicked to the curb.” Olyvar knew Roose Bolton was dead as news traveled fast indeed. Petyr smiled at him in agreement.

“Sadly, yes. But Ramsay’s not in the clear just yet. No one but Cersei appears to trust him.” Petyr frowned at his own words. “Well, trust is a strong word. She needs the Boltons support if she wishes to hold on to any power she believes she has.”

“God, all the Lannisters are a joke. The only one that had any real power was Tywin, and that died when he did.” Olyvar surprised Sansa in this exchange. He was well educated in the workings of the Syndicate. Working for Petyr and running the club definitely gave him insight into these people, she figured. He was smarter than she gave him credit for. “That little ankle-biter of hers needs a taste of his own medicine, too.”

An unladylike snort erupted from Sansa, making her almost choke on her coffee. Petyr gave her a stern look, but Sansa couldn’t help it. “Oh come on, he’s right.”

Petyr poured himself another cup. “Whatever they deserve, I have to allow them in the club, for the moment. That’s why I want constant surveillance on both of them. Any shenanigans by one or both, and I take it right back to Jon. Cersei likes to believe she’s in charge, but I’ll be damned if she will tell me how to run my club. Those two boys are bad for business, plain and simple.”

Sansa sat on the edge of his desk, observing him. “Shall we be expecting either of them tonight?”

Petyr scanned the list for the evening and cursed under his breath. He immediately looked to Olyvar and not Sansa. “She’s coming tonight.”

“And my day just gets better and better.” Olyvar laughed, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch sometimes. What do I tell her this time?”

“I’m away on business, as usual.” Petyr voiced in irritation. Sansa knew who they were talking about but played dumb for Olyvar and was curious to Petyr’s mind.

“Who is she? Do you want me to deal with her?” she asked innocently.

In unison, both men resounded a firm “No.” But only Olyvar laughed afterward. Petyr glared at her to stay silent.

“Lysa Arryn is Jon Arryn’s wife. We’ll just say she has nothing better to do than play the socialite and be a pain in my arse. Leave her alone and let Olyvar handle her in the delicate way he knows how.” Petyr returned to his work. “And no, neither tweedle dee or tweedle dum are on the list tonight. But that doesn’t mean they can’t show up unannounced. Let them drink and dance but absolutely no access to the second floor. Text me if it’s a problem.” Petyr continued writing and didn’t once glance up when he spoke, “Ol’, if you’ll be so kind, I need to speak to Alayne alone.”

Olyvar stood up and walked over to Alayne, playfully adjusted her glasses and blouse. “Don’t worry honey, after that first ass fucking, it’s not so bad. He’s all bite and no bark. At least he doesn’t have rabies.”

“Ol’, out. I’m not in the mood this afternoon,” Petyr barked as he checked his mobile.

Olyvar gave her a sympathetic look and patted Alayne on her bum as he headed out the door, “Let me know when you _are_ in the mood, I’ll need to lube that tight ass…” The door shut and Sansa bit her lip trying not to laugh. She dared not even look at Petyr for she knew she would burst.

“Jesus Christ…” she heard him say under his breath. Sansa thought she detected a hint of humour in his voice, but she wasn’t quite sure. She finally glanced at him, and he was rubbing his face.

“Do I spend the night up here in hiding?” Sansa sat on the edge of his desk and toyed with the cup in her hands.

Petyr clasped his hands together and leaned his chin on them as he stared at her in contemplation. “I don’t think it’s wise for you two to meet again."

Sansa chose her words carefully, “It would appear more suspicious if I didn’t go downstairs since you’re leaving Olyvar and I in charge, yes?”

Moments of silence passed when Sansa finally looked at him for an answer. Petyr was watching as if he was trying to read her mind, but she didn’t expect his following admission.

“She was at the station the other day looking into your family’s murder. She wasn’t interested in any of it prior to our last home meeting. I don’t want her to gain any ammunition.”

Sansa’s nerves spiked, and she could see it in his eyes. “Does she know who I am?”

“No. I would have heard it by now if she did. If Lysa knew something like that, she would have been blackmailing me long before now.” Petyr sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what she was looking for, but it’s best not to tempt fate just yet.”

“Hmph… dirty cops in your pocket, huh?” The contempt in Sansa’s voice was unmistakable, and Petyr raised a single eyebrow in judgment.

“Be grateful for those dirty cops, my dear. You’re alive because of it.” He tapped his fingers on the lacquered wood in deep thought. “On second thought, I’m going to ring her up and tell her I won’t be here tonight and placate her with something that interests her more,” Petyr spoke more to himself than to Sansa, and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

“You or drugs?” Sansa quipped. God, she couldn’t stop herself. She mentally berated her boldness.

“Perhaps both,” Petyr smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Load her up with one, and with luck, she’ll forget about the other.”

“You’d do that to keep her away from me?”

Hell, he fucked Lysa the first time, and Sansa wondered if he would do that again to protect her. Shit, she didn’t really want to know, but a nagging feeling was clawing at her insides as she didn’t want her Aunt Lysa anywhere near him.

“I’ll do what needs to be done.” A playful smirk crossed his lips. “Don’t fret sweetling, I guarantee I won’t enjoy it if that is what bothers you,” he chuckled darkly. “It won’t be long… just until Joffrey is dead.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa eyed him suspiciously.

Petyr leaned back in his chair and studied her. “I assumed you would want a one-way ticket out of Kings Landing after that. Don’t worry, I can provide everything you’ll need. New identity, money, a flat… tell me where you want to go, and I’ll set it up.”

Sansa hadn’t put much thought into what she would do after the deed was done. Leaving Kings Landing would be the most logical choice but to hear Petyr cast her aside so easily made Sansa cross.

“Can’t wait to get rid of me, eh?”

“You’d rather stay?” Petyr asked her in mock sarcasm. “There’s nothing for you here. You really think someone won’t discover you sooner or later?”

He wasn’t wrong, but at the same time, she hoped that maybe… Hell, Sansa didn’t know what she expected from him. Perhaps she just wanted to hear from someone that they cared about her and wanted her around.

“Petyr… I’ve meant to ask you.” Sansa couldn’t look him in the eyes and stared at the wood grain of his desk. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“Giving good riddance to the Lannisters does work in my favor…” Petyr japed.

Sansa didn’t look at him. Petyr knew that wasn’t the answer she was after. After a time, he huffed in annoyance that he was expected to be honest with her.

“I owe your mother,” he offered slowly. “We knew each other when we were children, and let’s say I was rather fond of her. In the end, I couldn’t help her, but perhaps I can save her daughter instead.”

_Did he love her mother?_

Sansa wondered how he would have known her mother and aunt. She must have reminded him of her. Of course, that must be it. People always remarked how much Sansa looked exactly like her mother when she was younger. Maybe she was overthinking into it, but she couldn’t stop the words that fell out of her mouth.

“Is that the only reason?” Sansa internally winced. What the fuck was she doing?

“No.”

Petyr’s voice was strong and to the point. The way he said it, told Sansa he wasn’t about to elaborate either. With that one word, the conversation was over.

“Off you go, I have calls to make and important work to do. I’ll take care of Lysa, but be on your guard tonight. Do not make any attempts with Joffrey if he does show up. You’re not ready for that yet. I’ll talk to Olyvar to keep an eye out of Lysa just to be safe. You will not interact with her. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Sansa answered plainly. She was being dismissed. It was rather pointless asking him anything it seemed. Petyr built high walls around him and didn’t let anything or anyone in.

Sansa wondered what made him this way. More importantly, she couldn’t figure out why she was attracted to a man such as this. Petyr ran hot or cold. He was cut and dry. Some moments he was charming and sweet and others intensely severe and closed off.

_I really know how to pick ‘em, don’t I?_

Wasn’t Petyr offering her exactly what she was hoping for? Sansa kept telling herself, yes. Yes, this is just a deal between them. Nothing more.

_He will give me a new life, and I can forget all about this place._

 

 

 

 

Petyr had left long before the club opened for the night. He didn’t say anything more to her about their discussion or plans in general. Whatever business he had tonight was clearly more important to him.

Sansa wore her dark blue dress and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. When she gazed in the mirror, she thought it was odd how she was getting used to wearing the glasses. They strangely suited her. The blue in the dress and her dark hair made her eyes more brilliant in their hue. A hint of her red was barely visible, and she wondered if Petyr would send her back to the salon for a touch-up. Under the multi-coloured lights of the club, it wouldn’t be noticeable.

She looked at herself long and hard. The hair and makeup really did wonders. She didn’t look anything like herself or her mother. The only one that noticed anything was Lysa, but Sansa didn’t know if she was suspicious about her looks or that Petyr had a pretty young woman with him. Jealousy was a nasty thing.

Sansa went downstairs and checked over the basics. The staff wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so, but a few of the girls were upstairs getting dolled up for the night. Olyvar was in the office as Sansa looked around the empty club.

She was getting used to this place, she thought weirdly. Sansa liked Olyvar immensely, and some of the girls were nice, except for Myranda. Petyr told her to take control back that day, but she never did confront the woman. Sansa didn’t want Petyr to know, and to her luck, Myranda had backed off on her own.

Pouring herself a small drink, Sansa smiled when she automatically grabbed the pomegranate juice. They really were Hades and Persephone personified, weren’t they? Petyr pulled her into his dark world and gave her the sumptuous fruit of the pomegranate that forced her to stay. However, Sansa drank of it willfully again and again. The more time she spent with Petyr, the more she wanted to be with him. He was seducing her, and Sansa knew it was working. She liked the way he made her feel, as sinful as it was. Their last encounter was still vivid in her mind.

“The booze helps, but the effects never last too long,” a mocking voice broke the silence. Myranda was dressed to kill and walked up to the bar eyeing Sansa the entire way. “Getting an early start?” She leaned against the bar challenging the new rival.

Sansa wasn’t going to waste her breath on such a question and continued to drink, all the while staring the brunette down. “Is there something you wanted, Myranda?”

“Want?” she smiled, “Oh, I want so many things. None of which you can give me.” Myranda’s sing-song voice was irritating, to say the least, and Sansa didn’t want to play this woman’s deranged games.

“What you want is me out of here, isn’t that so?” Sansa asked directly. If Petyr wanted her to take control, fine. Myranda raised her eyebrows feigning surprise. “Come on, we both know you don’t like me and wish I wasn’t here.”

The brunette only smirked and pretended she didn’t care as she inspected her manicure. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You won’t be here long.”

“Really? Is that what your magic eight-ball told you today?” Sansa stole that from Petyr and smiled.

“You really are pathetic, you know. You have no idea who you work for,” Myranda sneered.

“Oh? Enlighten me, for I seem to remember that you are just a whore and I’m the one running things _and_ the one your boss keeps at his side,” Sansa retorted coolly.

Myranda laughed heartily while Sansa kept her poker face on.

“Oh sweetie, you’re just the flavor of the month,” she grinned maliciously. “Do you have any idea how many girls he’s had? Don’t pretend you have any power. Everyone knows he’s fucking you in that apartment of his.”

Myranda walked around the bar and made herself a drink. “You can’t be more than twenty or so. You rather strike me as the college ingenue. Not exactly his type at all. I have to say, at the rate he’s going, he’ll be fucking a teenager next. You all keep getting younger and younger.”

Sansa scoffed. Petyr said they would most likely think they were fucking and Sansa let it go. Hell, Myranda couldn’t have been older than twenty-five at the most. The way she talked about Sansa was as if she were only a child. Fine, if Myranda assumed they were lovers then she would play the game. Petyr didn’t seem to mind the notion.

“I’m sorry, is that jealousy I hear? Perhaps he got sick of you or the knowledge of how many men that fuck you every night.” Sansa slammed the ball into the brunette’s court and waited.

“You really think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?” Myranda tossed back her shot of tequila and stared Sansa down. “Honey, you may not charge in the usual way, but you’re a whore just like the rest of us.” The brunette eyed her up and down, judging her. “You think those clothes are for free? He owns you. And when he’s done with you, you’ll be working down here with the rest of us.”

It was Sansa’s turn to laugh. “I highly doubt that. And these clothes are mine, thank you very much,” she lied through her teeth.

“Right. Every college girl wears Prada, do they? If you have that kind of money, why are you here? Replacing the rich daddy that cut you out of the family?” Myranda was digging, but Sansa stayed silent and didn’t break eye contact.

“You know nothing about me, _darling_ ,” Sansa tossed back nastily.

“Uh-huh. You are I are very much alike. You think I’m just some corner trash, but I came from a good family, and I’m betting you did too with those airs of yours.” Myranda poured another shot and came around to sit at the bar across from Sansa.

“Right, because good families like to see their daughters become prostitutes,” spat haughtily.

“My last name is Royce. If you knew anything about the people we deal with here in this city, you’d know it was a powerful House once. I fell for the wrong guy, and my father kicked me out, disowning me. Not long after he was killed, I had nothing. That’s how I came to be here. Petyr took me in." 

This woman was a liar, and Sansa didn’t want to feel any sympathy for her after what she did the other night. Myranda was wrong; they were nothing alike. Sansa’s family was murdered in cold blood while she was left for dead. Sansa wasn’t whoring herself out, she was seeking revenge, and Petyr was helping her. She didn’t want to compare her situation to that of the brunette across from her.

"I was where you are now," the brunette added softly.

“And where pray tell, is that?” Sansa scoffed.

“In his bed,” Myranda smiled wickedly. “He’s _good,_ isn’t he? There are just some men who know how to fuck a woman right. For a man his age… _goddamn_. I have to say; I’ve never had better or a man that can make me come like that. The way his kisses… I can’t blame you for taking what he’s giving.”

Sansa held her ground and kept her face unreadable. Myranda was goading her, she knew but what the woman was saying struck a chord in her that she didn’t like. Sansa suspected something between them the first time she met Myranda that day of the auditions. She didn’t like that Petyr could have been intimate with this woman.

It wasn’t as if he was with her now or that Sansa had any claim on him as a lover or something more. They really were nothing more than business partners. Hell, Sansa had not even slept with the man, and here she was pretending that they were together in some way just to save face. Also if she told this woman she and Petyr had not slept together, Sansa knew she would never have been believed.

“Good for you. But you still fail to realize that if whatever you say actually has some truth to it… he still got bored of you,” Sansa retorted in annoyance.

Myranda smiled sweetly, “When he’s done with you, just don’t be surprised when you’re working down here. Maybe he’s only training you like a good bitch. I’m just trying to give you some friendly advice, honey.”

“I’m pretty certain I don’t need advice from the likes of you.” Sansa turned to leave the bar. “And there’s nothing friendly about you. I remember what you did that night with Ramsay. Because of you, he poisoned my drink. You are no friend of mine, and it would be wise of you to stay clear of me before you find yourself in a very _unfriendly_ gang bang in Cheapside. Or worse, Petyr can sell you off to Joffrey or Ramsay for some of the _rough play_ that they’re known for?”

Myranda laughed out loud, and the sound sent chills up Sansa’s spine. “Oh deary, you can’t threaten me with that. How do you think I got rid of those other girls?” Myranda tossed back her drink and walked towards the lift. “Enjoy him while you can… he’ll come back to me. He always does. If I were you, I’d quit while you’re ahead. You have no idea of the game you’re in.”

“Like playing games, do you?” Sansa called out, stopping Myranda in her tracks. “How about this one? What do you think he’ll do to you when he finds out that you’re the one that got those girls hurt? Or even better, you’re the one that directed Ramsay to poison me? I remember him being rather angry about that. Just a _friendly_ warning.”

Matchpoint, Sansa thought smugly as the woman turned around and glared at her from across the room.

“I thought you were just naïve, but now I know you’re stupid too. What makes you think Petyr doesn’t know? You think you know him? He’s been playing you from the first minute. Honey, he knows _everything_ that goes on. He made plenty of money off those girls, _especially_ the ones sent to Joffrey. He may not let that shit happen here, because it’s bad for business, but he isn’t some fucking saint and the protector of virtue. He doesn’t care about any of us. Olyvar just likes to fuck and get paid. I happen to like the lifestyle this money gives me for very little work and yes; I like fucking our boss too. I’m good at what I do, and that keeps me safe from having to fuck trash like the other girls do. I make Petyr money. You, from what I see, are just his current toy. When he’s bored with you… I wonder what he’ll do with you? You couldn’t even handle Martell, and he is easy. I hope you saved some money, deary, because you’re going to need it.”

Myranda turned on her heel and walked to the lift. When the doors closed Sansa threw her glass across the bar, letting it shatter into a million pieces. She heard Petyr’s stern voice in her head.

_Don’t get into personal conversations_

Was it to keep her safe, or was it so she wouldn’t find out things he didn't want her to know? A man in his station didn’t get where he was without lying and cheating. Petyr seemed to heavily dislike Joffrey and Ramsay, but now Sansa wasn’t so sure she was being played. After what happened to her family, Petyr probably wouldn’t want her to know he did that kind of business with people like that or he would knowingly put those girls in danger just to make money.

Sansa couldn’t shake Myranda’s words yet at the same time, it still sounded like a jealous woman protecting her territory from the new lioness in the pride. Petyr hadn’t fucked Sansa. He would have if she let him, but he stopped when she told him to. Did he know she wanted him and he was only playing with her? Petyr wanted Sansa to like him, and it was working. However, Sansa liked him more than she should.

Again that nagging feeling clawed her insides. Petyr still didn’t say what her payment would be for him helping her. Myranda’s words made her feel sick. Maybe this talk of him getting her out of Kings Landing and starting a new life was all a lie too. Perhaps after she killed Joffrey, Petyr intended that she work off her debt to him.

Hell, Sansa didn’t know what to think now. If she were to corner Petyr about it, he would most likely deny it. Who did she believe? The man that saved her life and cared about her mother or the Royce girl that fell down into that pit where they both now dwelled?

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get fucked up in this story...


	20. Chapter 20

 

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Olyvar walked out from the lift and stopped. Concern was written on his face as he approached the bar. “Alayne, are you alright?”

She hadn’t spoken to him since he left her and Petyr in the office. Sansa lifted her head and forced a smile. “I’m fine Ol’, really.” A light bulb lit in her mind when she asked half-jokingly, “Did you think he hurt me or something?”

Olyvar’s eyes gave way to confustion. “Petyr?” His face showed he was genuinely shocked that she asked if Petyr was violent towards her. “I _was_ joking earlier. I can’t imagine him hurting you.” Olyvar paused and looked her over and he seemed to see through her fake smile. “He… he didn’t hurt you, did he?” His words were slow and controlled as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

That reaction was all she needed to know. Olyvar, his most trusted person that she knew of in the club was _surprised_. Sansa was almost afraid that he would have confirmed Myranda’s declarations.

“Oh no, really… I’m sorry. It was a bad joke on my part. He’s never been like that with me. Honest.” Sansa smiled for real this time and watched Olyvar’s reaction.

“You just surprised me, is all. I know I take the mickey on him in regards to Lysa Arryn and such. I was worried that maybe I got you into a bit of trouble. That woman is fucking nuts and I think it’s really starting to wear on him. She would be jealous as fuck seeing a beautiful girl like you by his side.” Olyvar grinned from ear to ear. “Hell, I don’t know which crazy, jealous bitch is worse, her or Myranda.”

The smiled died on her lips and he saw it instantly.

“Ah, that’s it. I saw her come onto the second floor when I was waiting for the lift.” Sansa couldn’t hide the look on her face apparently but Olyvar came behind the bar and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s a mean bitch, that one. She’s had a thing for him for some time. I can’t imagine she’s taking this well.”

Olyvar smiled at her confused glance.

“ _You_. She is so jealous of you right now it’s hilarious. Well, for me anyway. It’s about time she got knocked down a few pegs.”

Sansa played along and let him talk. “She doesn’t seem to like you either.”

“Yeah, well she’s only got herself to blame really. Randa was the queen bee for a while but she abused it and Petyr never trusted her again with anything. By the time I was promoted, it was the only the beginning of her downfall. Now, you’re here. Prettier and he clearly trusts and cares about you. Well, I bet that shite stings,” he laughed.

“He cares about me?” Sansa didn’t have to try hard to sound surprised.

“When Ramsay drugged you that night, Petyr was livid. I’ve never seen him concerned about anyone before. Had it been one of the girls or even Randa, he would have passed them on to me to take care of without a second thought.” Olyvar patted her cheek playfully. “Yes, I think the old man really cares about you.”

Sansa tried to hide a smile but Olyvar caught her and grinned. “But for the love of all that is holy, never tell him I said that. He’d kill me.” This time Sansa smiled back at his humour. “No really, he will kill me.”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that. He lets you joke with him. Well, you and Martell. I can’t think he lets many people do that.” Sansa was curious on how much Olyvar would tell her but she had to be careful what she said. For all she knew, he could take all of this right back to Petyr.

“It surprises me. Petyr has a wicked sense of humour. It comes out every once in a while. I think he lets me get away with it because he knows I’m trustworthy and doesn’t pry into his personal affairs.” Olyvar poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip. “Myranda would always boast that she was his right arm, lover, and such bullshite. He heard it all and that was kind of the end of that. She never knew how to keep her mouth shut.”

Sansa inwardly smiled at that. Petyr wanted nothing to do with her after all. “If she cannot be trusted, why is she still here?”

“Simple. She makes him money.” Olyvar patted her bum again and Sansa wasn’t offended by it. It was just how Olyvar was. “Whatever bullshite she was giving you, take it with a big grain of salt. This kind of business doesn’t cater to aging women and she has a short life span left here. I doubt she’s saved any money the way she spends it. More new and younger girls are coming in, and she has to know she’ll be replaced sooner or later. If it weren’t for the fucking sadists that are Joffrey and that Ramsay piece of shit, I think she would have been gone before now. It’s a good thing Petyr laid down the law on the crap or we wouldn’t be able to hire anyone new with that kind of reputation of brutality.

“Good to know he doesn’t provide that kind of… _entertainment_ ,” Sansa gently fished.

“You have to be a hard man to run this kind of business in a town as corrupt at this one…especially within the Syndicate. There are some sick fucks in this town. But this isn’t medieval times when people were bought and sold and everyone turned a blind eye to such things. Granted sex slave trafficking his still huge but if people got wind that’s the kind of place this was… I actually think we’d be closed up. A lot of shit goes on here and practically none of it is legal. But the way things are done, keeps us in business and the club makes an insane amount of money one way or the other. I think it’s actually less expensive and stress to have _willing_ workers, if you get my meaning.” Olyvar watched her for a moment and she could see him thinking. Maybe he was worried he had said too much. “That said, a word of warning. I wouldn’t cross him to save my life. I’ve found it’s nearly impossible to lie to him. He has a strange way of just knowing everything. Do your job and don’t give him any trouble.”

“I thought you said he wouldn’t hurt me,” Sansa tried not to let fear creep into her voice.

Olyvar raised his eyebrows in thought as he studied her. “I still don’t but I wouldn’t be my life on it. Like I said, a lot of shite goes on here. He’s neck deep in the mafia. Don’t poke your nose into things he doesn’t want you in. Leave his personal life out of it. I won’t pretend to know what goes on between the two of you and I don’t care. That’s why I’m still here and he has never threatened me.”

“For all you know, I’m here to spy on you and everyone else,” she teased but let a hint of seriousness to gauge his reaction.

“Perhaps,” he smiled thinly. “But I think you and I have one thing for each other.”

“And what is that?”

“Respect,” he sounded strongly. “You could out me to him on everything I’ve said. But it’s the truth and it’s meant in no harm to him because I respect him as well. I like you, Alayne. I think you’re an honest woman. Too kind and sweet to work in a place like this but your business is your own and none of mine.”

Employees started walking in and Olyvar changed his demeanor. “Well, it’s show time. Got to keep those rich fuckers happy, don’t we?”

Sansa smiled at him. She did like him. Perhaps they could have been friends under different circumstances. “Ol’, thank you.”

Olyvar winked at her and returned to his normal self, “Nah, think nothing of it. This whole city is a shite show. Thank God for drugs, alcohol and good sex… the only things that make it all bearable. Come to think of it, I need to find the most hideous son of a bitch tonight and point him in Randa’s direction.”

Sansa laughed out loud as he sashayed out of the room mocking the way Myranda walked.

 

 

 

It was nearing midnight and the club was packed. Sansa was nervous at first knowing Petyr wouldn’t be here in case there was trouble but everything ran smoothly. She was getting the hang of managing the place. Sansa worked well with Olyvar and together they tag teamed the club. Many of Petyr’s VIP patrons recognized her and treated her well enough. She got them what they wanted and turned on the charm.

She passed Olyvar by the bar and he gave her a wink. She saw Loras and Margery Tyrell in the crowd tonight and knew that’s where he was headed. It was all good, she felt she had everything under control. The only issue was one drunk man and security escorted him out under her command. Petyr must have talked to them personally, for not one gave her any grief. They did exactly as they were told.

The bartender set her new usual drink on the counter and grinned before he went back to the mass of waiting drinkers. As she took a sip, her mobile buzzed and saw that Petyr had sent a message.

_\- How it is going? -_

\- Very well. It’s busy tonight. -

_\- Send me the numbers -_

Sansa did as he requested and sent the data. She took another drink and tapped her foot to the song playing. Petyr had a very good DJ and she let herself enjoy the music for a moment as she looked around the room.

Olyvar was dancing with Loras and saw Margery heading towards the bar. She was stunning in her red dress and Sansa always thought she was beautiful. Two different men asked to buy her a drink and she waved them off with a smile. She wasn’t rude but wasn’t playing their games either. Sansa had remembered that about her when she used to see Margery around town and spotting her at the clubs. Men followed her everywhere but Sansa couldn’t think of one guy that she was dating seriously.

She smiled briefly in Sansa’s direction as she waited patiently for the bartender to come her way. “Maybe I should have taken the offer, it’s going to be forever before I get a drink around here,” Margery joked.

Sansa smiled back and snapped her fingers to the bartender that always took care of her. The cute man came over with a big grin for the two pretty girls. “Get her anything she wants. It’s on the house tonight,” Sansa ordered sweetly.

The Tyrells were allies to Petyr and she thought it best to keep them happy. Margery smiled, “Thank you. We’ve never met. I mean I don’t remember seeing you here before.”

“I’m Mr. Baelish’s assistant. I’ve only been working for him a short time,” Sansa answered. Best to keep it short and sweet.

“Oh, how is it working here?” Margery asked attempting polite conversation.

“Not bad. It has it’s strange moments,” Sansa quipped lightly.

“I bet. Do you get to kick a lot of people out when they’re wankers?” she teased.

“Sometimes,” Sansa laughed.

“How nice that would be. I’d love to kick some of these twats out. They think they can just grab you, drug your drinks and everything. That’s why I always go out with my brother. I just don’t trust these pigs.”

Sansa couldn’t help but nod in agreement. God, she missed talking with someone her age. Not just her age but someone outside this claustrophobic club. Margery definitely would have been someone she would have liked hanging out with.

“God, I’m totally rude. I’m Margery,” she introduced holding out her hand. “That’s my brother Loras, over there.” Sansa shook her hand and the bartender brought over two drinks.

“My name is Alayne. If anyone is troubling you, just find me. I’ll take care of it,” Sansa offered. “Cheers.” She held up her drink and Margery clinked it with a grin.

“Yeah, cheers.” They were quiet and watched the crowd dance for a moment. Someone caught Margery’s eye and she suddenly downed her drink. “Hey, there’s a friend of mine. Thanks for the drink, Alayne, was it? See ya around.”

And just like that Margery glided back into the crowd and Sansa saw who she was anxious to meet. The blonde boy took her around the waist and danced with her close. Apparently, Joffrey had decided to come out tonight. Sansa watched with loathing as he smiled and flirted with the Tyrell girl.

That’s the kind of girl he wanted, Sansa decided. Margery was from a powerful family but she also was unattainable. She was the kind of girl boys did backflips for. She was beautiful, refined and she decided whom she wanted to be around. Margery was marriage material, not a girl to have a hot night with.

Sansa leaned back and observed them, especially how Margery worked Joffrey. If he weren’t such a psychotic arsehole, Joff would be considered a catch. Either Margery didn’t know or pretended not to. She wasn’t girly around him. She was in complete control. She’d reel him in and push him back. Margery would turn and flirt openly with another man right in front of him. She was letting him know he’d have to work to keep her interest. Everything she did was for his benefit.

She had enough of watching that and gazed around the club. At one cocktail table, a young man with sandy blonde hair was watching Sansa. He was quite handsome, she noted. The man was tall, lean and the kind of guy that would normally catch her eye. He was dressed in a grey-blue shirt and jeans and Sansa noticed he was quite fit. He smiled raising his drink and Sansa adjusted her glasses and used her notepad as a distraction. She didn’t need another flirting guy drugging her drink. Petyr wasn’t here to save her arse. Apparently, her disinterest was a signal to him and he left the group of guys at his table to walk towards her.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

The blonde came to her side and just stood for a moment saying nothing. One or twice she glanced up from her notepad to see he was waiting patiently for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. He wasn’t leaving and Sansa sighed, knowing she either had to talk to him or just walk away. She didn’t know who the man was and didn’t want to be rude if he was one of Petyr’s clients.

“Why is it that the prettiest girl in the room is the one twenty guys aren’t buzzing around?” His voice was soft and smooth. Once upon a time, she might have given a guy a smile for that line, but Ramsay and Joffrey ruined her.

“How original,” she quipped not looking at him. “May I help you?”

“Well, I was going to ask if I could buy you a drink, but I see you already have one,” he said politely.

Sansa downed her drink in one gulp. She wasn’t about to have another guy spike her cocktail. “I’m good, thanks. And I’m working.”

The man looked awkward and shifted his weight.“Oh, you didn’t strike me as one of those…”

“Other girls? Yes, well… I’m not for sale, if that’s what you’re wondering.” God, is that what all men thought when they saw her?

“Listen, I think we got off of the wrong foot here. I didn’t mean to offend you. You looked a bit lonely over here and I thought…”

“That you’d come rescue me? Very gallant of you, but I manage the place. I’m pretty sure I’m alright.” Sansa held her ground and squared her shoulders. She wasn't trying to be rude, but obviously she needed to be more blunt.

“Ah, that’s it. I was wondering why you seemed so out of place. You just don’t look like that kind of girl,” the man tried to word it delicately but Sansa was irritated by this whole conversation.

“And what kind of girl am I? Please tell me.” She held her notepad in the crook of her arm and gave the man her full attention.

“The kind of girl that doesn’t go to a place like this and much less work in one.” He challenged by matching her stiff posture.

“Well, you’re here. What should that tell me about you?” Sansa smirked. If he wanted a match, she’d give him one.

Instead of bolting, the blonde laughed warmly and it took her off guard, “Touché.” He looked back to the table where the other guys in his group were drunk and acting like idiots. “My friends dragged me here. I’ve been out of town for some time and this was their way of a welcome back party. This isn’t my kind of place. I’m more of a pub kind of guy.” The blonde returned his attentions to her. “Did I insult your establishment and now you’re going to kick me out? If so, that would be great, because I’m bored out of my mind right now.”

Sansa couldn’t help the smirk on her face. He was at least somewhat charming. “You _want_ me to kick you out?”

“Please. Then I can save face in front of those tossers at least and not look like a total bastard for bailing on them,” he smiled warmly. “Not to mention I just botched it big time trying to hit on you.” Sansa smiled genuinely this time and the moment was short lived when Myranda sauntered by and suddenly stopped. “Well, Harry, never thought I’d see you again,” she cooed.

And just like that, Sansa’s stomach lurched. Yep, all men were the same liars and con artists. Myranda tried to stroke his arm and he flinched as if she had burned him. “Don’t touch me,” the blonde warned.

Myranda instead leaned to Sansa while eyeing the Harry with disdain. “Be careful of him, Alayne. He’s nothing but trouble and full of shite.” Sansa thought Myranda judging someone else harshly was a bit much. If she didn't like him, maybe he wasn't such a bad fellow after. He probably had some common sense.

Harry finished his pint and leaned against the bar. “Coming from you, Randa, that’s rich. It’s nice to know you’re still trash. Doesn’t surprise me at all you would whore yourself out, just surprised it’s not on the corner gutter down in Cheapside. That seems more your style.” Sansa watched the interaction with some morbid amusement.

Myranda tossed the contents of her drink in his face and marched off into the crowd. Harry turned around and grabbed a few cocktail napkins wiping his face. “Do you think I'll get a disease from that?" he japed and then thought better of it. "Sorry, that was rude of me. Well, I think I’ve had about as much welcome back fun as I can stand. I’ll save you the trouble of throwing me out,” Harry sighed.

Sansa wasn’t sure what to say. Normally, she would defend a woman against such insults but she hated Myranda and clearly there were people other than her and Olyvar that didn’t like her either. She wondered if this Harry was someone from her past.

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll have her dealt with,” Sansa offered. She still didn’t know who this man was and didn’t want to hear complaints from him to Petyr later.

“No harm done, Alayne, is it?” Harry smiled. “She was just the same when we were teenagers.” He looked in the direction that Myranda left and added, “Her father would be spinning in his grave right now.”

Sansa saw Olyvar give her a look asking if she was all right and she nodded. Harry turned back to her and gave her a sad smile. “Well, I’d say that ruined what could have been the best part of my night. I highly doubt you’d let me ask you to dinner now.”

She was shocked. Sansa was ready to knock down any and all pick up lines and flirting but the way he said it was so dejected that she almost felt bad for the guy. “I’m sorry, but…”

But what? I’m involved? I’m lusting after my boss? I’m a little busy right now because I’m in the middle of a plot to kill someone?

Harry didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s okay. I get it. Really, I do.” He started to walk away and paused. He asked the bartender for a pen and began scribbling something on a napkin and returned to her. “What the hell. If you ever want to get a coffee or … “ Harry smiled and handed her the paper. “It was nice to meet you, Alayne.”

He turned and walked back to his friends. Not once did he look back to her and Sansa watched him say goodnight as his friends bellowed that he was dogging them. The last thing she saw was his blonde hair move through the crowd towards the door when a voice behind her made her stomach drop.

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

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“Where is he?”

The sharp, clipped tone of her aunt had her heart racing. Oh fuck, this wasn’t happening. Sansa didn’t even need to look for Olyvar, he hauled arse over to her as soon as he saw Lysa. Sansa turned around and faced her aunt head on. She was wearing another ghastly dress and her rancid perfume was overwhelming.

“He is away on business. He didn’t say where,” Sansa replied calmly.

“Ah, Mrs. Arryn, good to see you.” Olyvar looked to Sansa briefly before adding, “I don’t know if Alayne mentioned it, but Mr. Baelish is away on business. I believe he told me he contacted you personally knowing you were on the list tonight. He didn’t want you to be disappointed he wasn’t here to greet you personally.”

Olyvar was trying to shield Sansa as best he could. He knew as she did, that Lysa was a jealous woman and didn’t like any woman being near her obsession.

“Come off it, boy. I know he’s here. I’m tired of him avoiding me,” Lysa spat. “I need to talk to him.”

“I’ll ring him, if you wish. And you are welcome to check the entire club but I’m telling you the truth. He isn’t here,” Olyvar said trying to diffuse the situation. He lightly pushed Sansa back, trying to take control.

“Oh, I will look around. I’ll call him again, but you tell him I will be here every night until he sees me,” Lysa demanded.

Sansa backed up slowly and was about to walk into the crowd when Lysa grabbed her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to check the lounge and see if the guests need anything, Mrs. Arryn.” Sansa played submissive as she did in Petyr’s house, hoping for the same effect.

“My Petyr finally put you where you belong, huh? With the rest of the whores…” she sneered viciously.

Sansa wanted to slap the woman, but she didn’t dare, family be damned. At least one good thing Sansa realized. Either Aunt Lysa was an excellent actress or she still didn’t know she was her niece. She calmed herself down and dug her heels into her role. Lysa could hate Alayne all she liked as long as it was _Alayne_.

“What can I get for you, Mrs. Arryn?” Olyvar asked politely.

“You can get out of my face and call your boss,” she retorted coldly. Olyvar backed away and was about to take Sansa’s hand to guide her with him, when Lysa grabbed her elbow, stopping her. “Not you, girl. I want to have a word with you.”

Sansa breathed slowly. She couldn’t rely on Olyvar because he didn’t know what happened at Petyr’s home. He wasn’t Petyr. He couldn’t tell Lysa off without consequences. Sansa nodded to Olyvar, telling him it was okay. She knew he’d be texting Petyr immediately. It didn’t help her at all right now no matter where he was in the city… if he was even in the city. She turned and stood in front of her aunt and waited for her to initiate conversation.

Lysa waited for Olyvar to distance himself before she turned to Sansa. “Call him,” she ordered.

Sansa kept her cool for this could spiral out of control very quickly. “If he’s in a meeting, he’ll kill me for disturbing him.”

“Then nothing of value will be lost. _Call him_. I’m betting he’ll pick up for you,” Lysa rebuffed darkly.

Sansa prayed Ol’ had already texted Petyr when she tapped his number. With each ring, she hoped he wouldn’t pick up. Her heart was pounding so hard it almost stopped when his voice sounded on the other end.

“Yes?”

Fuck, what was she supposed to say? Your crazy stalker is here and demands to talk to you? Sansa held the phone close to her face because the club was so loud.

“Um, Mr. Baelish, forgive me for disturbing you, but…” Sansa couldn’t look at Lysa as she spoke when Petyr cut her off.

“Put her on the phone. _Now_ ,” he demanded coldly.

Sansa handed over her phone to Lysa and waited as her chest constricted. The club was raging loud that she could barely hear Petyr’s voice on the line. The fact that she could hear him at all meant that he was yelling. Lysa began to talk when a fight erupted on the dance floor directly in front of them. It started with what looked like two men, and in a second it turned into a brawl.

Lysa was forgotten as security rounded on the group trying to break it up. Onlookers were cheering and more people crowded in to watch the spectacle. Sansa was pushed and shoved into her aunt as the fight pushed back towards the bar. Next thing she knew a guy shoved into her hard, making her fall to the ground and tearing the top of her dress open when he grabbed her.

Sansa saw her mobile on the ground, and it was shattered, as someone must have stepped on it. Sansa looked around for the notepad. Petyr warned her to keep it safe. Luckily she found it under a stool and grabbed it before it was also broken.

Security had rounded up the brawlers and was hauling them out of the club when a man helped Sansa up. She wobbled on her high heels for a moment before catching a glimpse of her aunt’s face. It was then Sansa felt the material dangling off her now exposed shoulder. She didn’t have to look down to know the bullet wound was clearly visible.

All Sansa could do was return Lysa’s stare as if nothing had happened. She didn’t dare speak or acknowledge anything was amiss. If she quickly tried to hide the scar, Lysa would know she was hiding it. Her heart dropped, knowing her aunt had seen the crime scene photos.

Hell, even Sansa hadn’t seen the photos. She didn’t know how Petyr managed to doctor them, but Lysa had to know her niece was shot in the shoulder and head. Lysa was looking for something when she went to the police station and Sansa prayed to God that her aunt didn’t put two and two together. Sansa tried to read her aunt’s face, and the woman gave away nothing. Suddenly, Olvyar rushed over, and Sansa was relieved.

“Fuck me, are you two all right?” Olyvar said more to Sansa than her shocked aunt. Sansa’s eyes closed when he touched her bare shoulder, and before she could stop him, Olyvar gasped, “Jesus, how the hell did you get that?”

“I was stabbed a year ago at school,” she lied quickly and tried to adjust her clothing a bit.

Sansa looked at Lysa and didn’t want to linger too much. Either the woman knew, or she bought the lie. The look on her aunt’s face made Sansa queasy while her gut told her Lysa would figure it out. The Stark family found dead and then suddenly Petyr takes in a young girl no one knows anything about. Granted, there was a dead body in Sansa’s place. She wasn’t missing or presumed dead. To everyone, Sansa Stark was declared dead and buried.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change my clothes. Ol’, I assume we’re done for the night, yes?” Sansa broke eye contact with her aunt and focused her attention on Olyvar.

“Yeah, we’re done. Security is escorting everyone out. Don’t worry; I’ll square everything with the boss. We haven’t had a scrape like that in a while. I don’t see too much damage. Mostly broken glasses.” Olyvar patted her back, “Go clean yourself up in the office loo.”

Sansa bent down and picked up her broken phone and laughed to herself. Well, that must have been an interesting conversation to say the least. She looked back to her aunt, “Goodnight Mrs. Arryn. Olyvar, make sure she is escorted to her car. Mr. Baelish will want to make certain of her safety.”

She turned and headed towards the lift and didn’t look back. Sansa didn’t know what she was going to tell Petyr. Her first night alone was a disaster, and she knew she wasn’t going to hear the end of it. Frankly, Sansa was more worried about Olyvar and didn’t want him to get in trouble for tonight’s downfall. Damnit, she should have not listened to Petyr and stayed upstairs tonight.

Security let her into the lift and Sansa didn’t bother with the second floor and went straight up to the third instead. She needed to be entirely alone for a few minutes to pull herself together. Sansa played with her phone and it still technically worked, however, she would end up slicing her fingers. She could see Petyr had texted her yet every time she swiped, she nicked her fingertips.

She closed the door and took a deep breath and yelled, “FUCK!”

Sansa doubted anyone would hear her up here, but she didn’t care. She went to Petyr’s wine cabinet and poured some brandy into a glass. It was strong with hints of vanilla but Sansa downed it and poured another. The calming effect was kicking in as she changed her clothes. She wanted nothing more than to put on her yoga pants but she still needed to look professional in case people were still downstairs. She donned her black dress and returned to the main floor where only Olyvar and a few employees were left cleaning up the mess.

“How bad is it?” Sansa asked as she made her way across the room.

Myranda was sitting on a sofa with a wide grin on her face, and Sansa ignored her completely. Security made the rounds and was locking up as the last few patrons from upstairs were leaving while adjusting their clothes in a hurry.

“It’s nothing. Broken glass, a table, and two chairs,” Olyvar explained while he and a few others cleaned.

“Did anyone take note of those guests from upstairs? We’ll need to compensate their accounts, don’t you think?” Sansa inquired.

“Yeah, they will be listed in the system. It’s an easy fix,” Olyvar smiled and walked over to her. “I texted him. He knows everything. I told him we have it under control and he’ll be back soon. He didn’t say when,” Olyvar told her quietly knowing Myranda wasn’t too far away.

To his credit, Olyvar didn’t ask about Lysa and Sansa agreed with what he said earlier, he _was_ trustworthy. It wasn’t long before the place was cleaned up, everyone paid for the night and on their way out. Myranda lurked around, and Sansa refused to let that bitch make her feel uncomfortable. Brawls happen, just like Olyvar said. It’s a nightclub. What nightclub doesn’t have the occasional fight?

Finally, Myranda left as Sansa began to relax. Olyvar had double checked all the doors, closed the second-floor office, and locked the place up for the night. No word if Petyr was on his way back or when and Sansa was dreading it all the same. Olyvar sat back on one of the sofas and finished his drink as he waited, continually checking his phone.

“Any word?” Sansa finally asked. Olyvar shook his head and sat up. He looked tired. “You should go, I got this. Get some sleep.”

“Nah, I’ll wait up. If we’re going to get fucked, it might as well be a threesome,” he laughed. Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle. Olyvar knew how to lighten a mood.

Time dragged on and still no sign of Petyr. Sansa told Olyvar to go home as there was no point in both of them waiting any longer. Petyr was clearly busy with more pressing matters than her and the club. Olyvar gave her a reassuring hug and left out the front door as Sansa locked it behind him.

Sansa walked to the bar and turned off the lights. It was eerie down here in the dark, especially alone. She was about to leave the bar when she heard a noise coming from the back, possibly in the VIP Lounge. It must be Petyr, she thought and was about to call his name when the door opened slightly and shiny metal caught the dim light coming from the street outside the windows. Sansa instinctively ducked behind the bar. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Petyr.

She could hear the person creep around the edge of the room and Sansa pulled out her phone and tried to hide the bright light under the sink. She swiped the screen and her fingers bled until it finally dialed his number. She’d never be able to text him like this.

It rang twice when he picked up. “I’ll speak to you when I get there…” Sansa cut him off with a whisper.

“There’s someone in the club. I’m alone. I think he has a knife…” Sansa held the phone close to her mouth and whispered into her cupped hands, hoping whoever was out there didn’t hear.

Petyr’s voice whispered in reply, “Get to the lift. It’s coded. Once it closes, it will lock. Lock yourself in the apartment.”

Petyr ended the call abruptly, and Sansa tucked the phone in her bra just in case. She took off her shoes as quietly as possible and then peered above the counter to see where the intruder might be. Sansa looked over to the lift and couldn’t see anything in the darkness. Her eyes were trying hard to adjust when she saw a shadow come around one of the sofas near the end of the bar.

Fuck, it _was_ a knife and a large one. Guns were frightening enough, but the thought of being stabbed ran Sansa’s blood cold. She lied to Lysa about her ‘stab wound’. Sansa was scared shitless she was about to know what it felt like.

Sansa was shaking and didn’t know if she should wait and hide or make a run for it to the lift. She crouched down and moved to the end of the bar silently, waiting for a moment to gather her courage. She peeked her head out just enough to see when a flash of metal struck down and hit the wood next to her arm.

A scream echoed out, not sure it belonged to her. The man pulled the blade from the wood and she took off towards the lift as fast as her feet could carry her. A hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back as she fell to the floor. The man thrust down again as the blade grazed the floor.

He was on top of her trying to pin her down while Sansa fought against the stronger man. His face was covered with a balaclava, and his breath reeked. Her left hand was holding his wrist that wielded the hunting knife just above her chest.

Adrenaline was pulsing while she used every bit of strength she had to keep that blade from stabbing her. Her other hand pushed hard against the man’s chest, but all Sansa could see was the blade inching down lower and lower in slow motion. She screamed, but there was no one there to help her. Her arms were shaking from the effort, and she didn’t know what to do. His legs were straddling her thighs and without another thought, Sansa thrust her knee up sharply and hit the man in the groin.

The knife clattered to the floor as he grabbed his crotch in pain. Sansa pushed him hard and scurried to the lift. She stood and tapped the code too fast, but the door wouldn’t open. She could see the man slowly stand and pick up the knife. She furiously tapped in the digits again and again, but it denied her safety.

He was moving quickly, and finally, Sansa entered the right code as the doors opened. She slid inside and pressed the button a million times for the doors to close, but he was gaining fast, and the doors closing too slowly. Sansa thought she was going to make it when doors shut to only a sliver but then the knife thrust its way between them. The doors opened, Sansa she let out a blood-curdling scream as she backed into the corner knowing it wouldn’t do her any good.

The first shot rang out, and Sansa looked down at her body, not seeing a single drop of blood or the feeling of pain. The man in front of her halted with a look of surprise in his eyes. Two more shots fired and the man slid down the side of the door dropping the knife.

Sansa gasped for air feeling as though she was drowning. Her legs shook, and her heart felt as though it would burst out of her chest. The man was still alive as she could see his chest rise and fall.

Suddenly, another man holding a gun came into view from the darkness. The light from the lift highlighted the gun pointing inside the doors that tried to close and couldn’t because of the body that lay between them. Sansa thought for sure she was dead, but it was his voice that made her sob in relief.

“Are you hurt?” Petyr asked, his voice was like ice.

Sansa couldn’t even speak and simply shook her head. Petyr kicked the knife away inside the lift and pointed the gun down at the wounded man. With one hand he tore away the mask and Sansa didn’t recognize him and by the look on Petyr’s face, neither did he.

“Who sent you?” he demanded.

The man coughed up blood and wheezed for air, but Petyr didn’t relent.

“Who the fuck sent you? I’ll make it quick, or you can live your last moments in agonizing pain.”

The man sputtered but didn’t speak. Shockingly, Petyr shot him in the knee that made the man scream out in pain and curse wildly.

“See? Now we know you can talk, so unless you want me to blow your other knee cap off, tell me what I want to know.” Petyr pointed the gun at the other man’s leg and waited.

Sansa wasn’t sure what scared her more, that she was almost stabbed to death or watching Petyr torturing the man that attempted to take her life. Without warning, he shot the man again, and she screamed along with him.

“I don’t know,” the man gurgled, spitting out the blood building in his mouth. “Some… lady. Paid to have the girl killed… girl with dark hair…” he wheezed again trying to get the words out. “Glasses.”

“Who paid you?”

“Didn’t see her face…I don’t know.” He coughed up more blood, and Sansa was going to be sick watching this man die. “Said it would be… easy job. She’d be alone tonight.”

Petyr looked at Sansa as they both were shocked at the man’s admission. Someone knew Petyr would be away and wanted her dead. A woman. Sansa leaned against the wall. She was going to vomit, faint or both.

He came inside and grabbed Sansa when her knees buckled as they heard the man take his last breath. Without any regard, Petyr kicked the dead man’s body roughly to the outside of the lift letting the doors finally close, and that’s all it took. Sansa dropped like a stone and fell into him. Hearing Petyr curse loudly as he picked her up in his arms, Sansa blacked out.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no shame on this SS Creepyship. I love this trash/dumpster of a relationship.

 

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A door was kicked open, and Sansa was dropped unceremoniously onto the soft mattress. She could hear the click of another door and her eyes strained to see as Petyr moved towards her with a syringe. She struggled as he held her down while her voice tried to scream but only a painful groan sounded as the needle penetrated her arm.

All too quickly, the drug took effect and she was drifting off as Petyr left her. Time was meaningless as the room swayed and tilted in silence. Sansa felt heavy and couldn’t move, and minutes seemed like hours. Suddenly, she felt her body being pulled up into strong arms. The hallway bobbled strangely as she stared at carpet disappearing behind her and a hard shoulder cut into her ribs. Her dizzy head hung down as her eyes closed to the sensation.

The smell of exhaust made her stomach turn as Petyr laid her down in the backseat of his car. Sansa felt she was right back to that fateful, rainy night. This time she wasn’t shot and bleeding as she sunk into the leather. She tried to sit up but Petyr pushed her back down.

“Stay down until I say so,” he ordered and shut the car door.

The movement of the car had her head spinning. What little she could see out the window told her he was driving outside the city. All too soon large iron gates opened and the car was pulling into a garage as the heavy door closed them in darkness.

Sansa snuggled down into the cool, soft sheets as she began to wake. She was entirely at peace hearing the gentle crash of ocean waves breaking on the rocks. The sea air was brisk and salty contrasting to the musky scent of the pillow her head lay upon. It made her feel as if everything else had only been a terrible nightmare.

Her eyes peered through thin slits of heavy lids at a wafting movement beside the bed. A cool breeze billowed the linen curtains like a ghost trying to come through the tall french doors. Watching those curtains dance in the breeze was almost enough to put her back into a deep sleep, yet something told her to get up.

Sansa was groggy, to say the least when she sat up in the large bed. The sheets fell to her waist, and Sansa could see she was clad in only her underwear. She gazed about the enormous bedroom and realized she was alone. This room was very different than the one she had lived in for weeks as Sansa tried to think of where she was and how she got here.

 _Petyr_.

He brought her here. Sansa’s hand instinctively went to her arm where he injected her with god knows what and noticed a light bruise was forming. She must be at his house on the bay, she deduced. Sansa stood on wobbly legs and inspected the room. It was nothing like his apartment or even the part of the house she observed that day.

Everything in here looked like it came from India. It was lush with plants and intricated woven rugs on the hardwood floors. Vibrant colours covered the walls with beautiful paintings and the hand-carved dark wood furnishings. The bed linen, curtains, and cushions contrasted it all in clean white. It was a room Sansa could die in every night.

Pulling the sheet around herself, Sansa padded to one set of french doors that led to a balcony. She could see the gardens, pool and down the rocky face to the where a small yacht was moored. You couldn’t get a more beautiful view than this. His house was on the point of the south end of the bay and overlooked the sea. In the distance to the north, Sansa could barely make out Kings Landing’s skyline because of all the smog, and she grimaced. She never wanted to go back there ever again.

Last night played again in her mind, and she could hear the man’s screams as Petyr shot him. He admitted that a woman paid him to kill Sansa and knew Petyr would not be at the club. There were only two people Sansa could think of that hated her: Lysa and Myranda. They both knew Petyr wouldn’t be there, but Sansa couldn’t pin down how the man got in.

Voices down below distracted Sansa from her thoughts as Petyr, and another man walked out from under the balcony on to the patio. It was Oberyn. Sansa stepped back not wishing to be found eavesdropping. It was possible that Oberyn didn’t know she was here and Petyr assumed she was still drugged.

Anger filled her at the knowledge that Petyr drugged her. She backed further into the curtains and tried to listen. They were discussing a deal, and Sansa couldn’t make out all that was said. Petyr spoke about his boat for transport and something about the Lannister’s throwing a ball in a week. Oberyn was dismayed about the Lannisters, but Petyr assured him that they wouldn’t be a problem for much longer.

Well, he didn’t lie about that at least, she thought. Petyr really wanted to get rid of the Lannisters, and that worked well for her. However, Sansa wanted to know what her role would be in this play he was directing. All this time Petyr gave her the impression he was going to help her kill Joffrey, but Sansa now wondered if he already had a gameplan of his own regarding the boy. She certainly didn’t want to be the fall guy in this plot.

Myranda’s words came back to haunt Sansa, giving her pause about trusting Petyr. Did he promise Myranda something similar when she met him? That is if she was telling the truth. Now she was selling herself to the highest bidder all the while he profited. However, if Myranda was as vindictive as Olyvar made her out to be…

Sansa really began to wonder if Myranda would go as far as putting a hit on her. What the hell did she hope to gain? Alayne wasn’t a threat to anyone. Her thoughts went to Aunt Lysa and had to second-guess that statement. Lysa was willing to blackmail the man she wanted in order to keep him. A person obsessed with another was apt to do the most awful things, Sansa decided. Perhaps Myranda was really in love with him. She did say she got rid of the other girls via Ramsay and Joffrey and Sansa’s stomach churned.

_Do you know how many girls he’s had?_

_He knows everything…_

Sansa had to be honest, how could she even think she knew a man she met only a few weeks ago? Did he seduce those girls too? Olyvar’s voice rang in her head from last night telling her Petyr treated her differently than any woman he’d known. Petyr chose to save her life, twice and he had been protecting her this whole time. It was easier to believe Myranda was a liar. The man she met, Harry, was disgusted with her. He didn’t know Alayne, and bad-mouthing Myranda wasn’t to impress her.

She saw Petyr and Oberyn walk down the stone steps to the boat disappearing below the garden cliff. Part of her wanted to run – find a set of keys and take his car. Sansa knew Petyr was dangerous, but last night also proved he could be just as cold-blooded as the man that came to kill her. He didn’t wince or think twice about causing the man extreme pain. It was for her, but it scared Sansa all the same. Would Petyr kill her if he had to?

Logic won over, and Sansa knew she couldn’t run. Not right now, anyway. Petyr would find her with ease. Whatever the outcome, Sansa knew she had to play this game one way or another. Petyr was using her, and she was going to use him right back. For now, she needed his protection, knowing he’d give it to her. Someone wanted Sansa dead, and if Petyr didn’t care, he never would have brought her back to his home. The club wasn’t safe right now, and very few people seemed to know where he lived.

 _Aunt Lysa_.

She knew this house. Sansa closed her eyes and remembered. Fuck, she saw her scar. Sansa never heard what Petyr had said to Lysa on the phone and honestly didn’t know if her aunt believed Sansa's story about being stabbed. Did Sansa dare tell Petyr or let ride it out? Her aunt had already been poking her nose around the police station looking for something. A more sickening thought entered her mind. If Petyr knew, what would he do to her? Sansa hated her aunt, but did she really wish her dead?

_What if she put the hit on you last night? What would you think then?_

_But that was Alayne,_ she told herself.

Would her aunt kill her only niece? Her last blood kin? What if Sansa did go to Aunt Lysa and explained, showing her the red hair that was growing in and convinced her and Jon Arryn. She could say Petyr helped her, and nothing was going on between them… Maybe, just maybe… But as quickly as that wild thought came, Sansa just as swiftly dismissed it.

Fucking hell, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps, Myranda was right. Sansa was naïve and stupid and had no idea what she was getting into. She had never dealt with people like this before, Sansa chided herself.

_Girl, you need to grow up and fast. Two people have tried to kill you, and if you don’t get your shite together, you’ll be dead soon. You’ve got a deadly man on your side, use him._

Sansa took a deep breath and repeated her mantra again in her mind. She would find out what Petyr knew and then decide when to tell him about Aunt Lysa. Finding a wardrobe, Sansa took one of his shirts to wear. She couldn’t exactly parade around in her knickers, and she didn’t see her black dress anywhere. Petyr didn’t even have a bathrobe in this bathroom either. Damn.

She debated whether to go downstairs knowing Oberyn was might still be here. Sansa thought she better not poke the lion too much considering what happened last night and instead crawled back onto the bed. Sooner or later, Petyr would come back to check on her.

It had been quite some time since she saw the two men in the garden and wondered how long she should stay up here. Sansa rolled up the long sleeves and just then noticed a few little red dots on her skin. She rubbed at them, and suddenly utter revulsion hit her. She scanned her legs and feet and could see little spatters of dried blood. The dead man’s dried blood was on her skin. How had she not see it before now?

Sansa stripped down as she ran to the bathroom, getting into the shower. It wasn’t much blood, but just the thought of it made her skin crawl. She couldn’t scrub herself fast or hard enough. Satisfied she was clean, Sansa leaned against the cool marble and let the hot water rain down on her. The bathroom was steaming up quickly, and she knew she should get out, but it felt too good at the moment.

Turning around, Sansa opened her eyes and screamed at the figure leaning against the door frame. How long had Petyr been standing there watching her? Why didn’t she have enough sense to close the fucking door?

“Do you mind?” she barked before she could stop herself.

“No, I don’t. By all means, continue. I’m enjoying the view,” Petyr smirked.

Sansa had nothing to cover herself with. She saw the towels that were stacked next to where he was standing. _Fuck_. She tried to cover her breasts and between her legs and heard him chuckle.

“Please leave,” she muttered.

“After you left me such a lovely invitation? Not to mention several minutes of a good show...”

Petyr’s eyes burned her skin from head to toe as he began pulled the shirt over his head and Sansa sank back into the corner of the shower.

“What are you doing? I didn’t invite you.” Sansa watched in horror as he unbuckled his trousers.

“Didn’t you? A tempting trail of my shirt, your bra…and you know how I love your knickers… led me to this also inviting open door.” His voice was deep, and Sansa felt a small twinge below her navel. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or lust as he tossed his pants aside standing in black briefs. “After saving your life again, I thought you were simply giving me a little reward.”

Sansa lost her voice, “I – I… didn’t. I just needed to…”

Petyr hooked his fingers around the waistband, and Sansa couldn’t look. She turned into the corner and panicked. Her heart jumped at the sound of the glass door opening and shutting quickly. He was inside with her and completely naked. Against her will, her core ached the way it did when he touched her. She had clothes on both times before and now she was completely bare before him.

Sansa could feel him behind her and froze not knowing what he was going to do. A wet hand caressed her hip, causing an involuntary flinch. Instead of pulling his hand away at the perceived rejection, Petyr wrapped an arm around her stomach and yanked her to him. She felt every bit of his wet and naked body against her backside. Sansa’s breathing quickened as his hand traveled up to her breast and squeezed while his other hand pulled her hip rough against him. He was hard and pressed his cock along her bum as he rocked his hips seductively.

He kissed her shoulder and breathed in her ear, “Think of it as a down payment for all the things I’m going to do for you, Ms. Stark.” His tongue trailed along her neck, and Sansa bit her lip containing a groan.

“I won’t be your whore,” she finally spat out as pride won over lust.

Petyr whipped her around and pressed her hard against the marble. His lean body touched hers in every way as his hands held her wrists behind her back. His masculine form contrasted her soft feminine one and his cock pulsed as he ground into her curls, hitting the bundle of nerves near her pelvic bone.

“You’re not a whore,” he growled and kissed her hard. “But you are still mine… and I will have you. Playtime is over.”

Petyr pressed into her, maneuvering his thigh between hers, opening her legs to him. His wet cock slid between her thighs jutting against her folds. He released her hands and wrapped an arm around her back as he kissed her roughly. Sansa was starting to kiss him back when he pulled away.

  
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

As soon as the words left his lips, he arched up, letting his cock slide harder where he knew his sweetling really wanted him. Sansa moaned loudly, and he took advantage of plundering her mouth with his tongue. She was lost in his kiss and unconsciously arched into him, making him groan deeply into her mouth.

“Tell me what you want, sweetling,” he purred as he trailed his mouth down her neck.

She was at a loss for words. All Sansa knew was that she didn’t want Petyr to stop.

“I don’t kno… _oh shit_ ,” she moaned as his mouth took a pert nipple. His tongue lavished it with attention, and Sansa had to hold on to his shoulders for fear of her legs buckling.

She heard him grunt as his mouth sucked at her breast while his hands held her hips to him. Suddenly, Petyr hoisted her up further against the wall, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“I’ll tell you what you want…  _a good fuck_ ,” he groaned with lust in his eyes. Petyr ground his hips into her again and brought her mouth down to his. “And what you need is a man that knows how.”

Petyr brought his hand between them and angled his cock, pushing the crown in. Before Sansa could protest, he thrust up hard, impaling her on him. The pain hit while she held on to him for support. Sansa couldn’t move the way he pressed her against the marble and grasped her bum. Fuck, he was buried to the hilt, and it hurt.

He didn’t move and let her adjust to him. Sansa wasn’t sure if she was tight or that he was big. It was an odd sensation of fullness having a man inside her. Petyr gave a few shallow thrusts making Sansa wince each time. Instead of continuing, he suddenly let her slide down his body and pulled out. Confused, Sansa looked at him, wondering why Petyr stopped. She just assumed he was going to fuck her right there in the shower.

His hand found its way into her curls and played with her until she moaned loudly. Petyr smiled wickedly and turned off the water. Without drying off, he pulled her out of the bathroom and practically tossed her wet body on his rumpled bed. Her legs were still hanging on the edge when he stood before her stroking himself. Sansa finally got a good look at him. She had seen a little porn here and there, but this was real and what he was holding in his hand was more than real. Petyr wasn’t huge like those pornstars, but he was thick, and Sansa realized why it hurt so much.

Petyr was a man and not some boy. The way he looked at her with dark pupils had Sansa scared and turned on at the same time. His body was lean didn’t have an extra ounce of padding on his frame anywhere. He had a light spattering of chest hair and a small trail down from his navel.

His eyes raked her body as he spoke, “Touch yourself.”

That brought her out of her daze. Sansa had touched herself alone in her room but never before a man. Maybe he was a voyeur after all. In spite of herself, Sansa did as he instructed and reached between her legs. Her eyes never left him, but she couldn’t stop watching his hand while matching his movements with her own. She could feel her heart race again and moaned at the way he looked at her. He moved between her dangling legs and leaned over her making her freeze.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Petyr whispered.

He kissed her deeply when his hand covered hers telling her to continue on. His hands grabbed her hips and pushed her further on the bed, forcing her legs to spread. Petyr knelt between her thighs and drove them out farther.

“Don’t stop, sweetling.” His tongue dipped in her mouth as she could feel him rubbing the head of his cock against her folds, briefly grazing her working fingers. “That’s it, you’re my wet girl.” He rubbed her harder and she groaned into his mouth. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he teased darkly.

Petyr moved her hand away and replaced it with his own, letting his cock sit at her entrance. His thumb rubbed hard, and Sansa hissed. “You have to tell me what you want, baby.” She couldn’t form a single word as he locked his eyes on hers.

“Hmm, I think you want me, right… _here_ ,” and he gently pressed the crown inside, giving slow, shallow thrusts. Petyr kept working her nub as he eased her open to his girth. “Yes,” he drawled, “you like that, don’t you?”

God, Sansa didn’t know what was getting her hotter, the slow way Petyr was fucking her or the dirty pillow talk. He gave her a deeper stroke and she grabbed his hips. Oh, God, it felt good.

“Open up for me, sweetling.” His voice dropped an octave, and Sansa quivered. He was thrusting deep and making sure to hit where his thumb was pressing roughly, adding more pressure but his pace was tortuously slow. Her body was on fire and Sansa didn’t know if it was supposed to continue like this or the like how he was fast and rough with her in that corridor.

Sansa groaned in frustration, not getting the friction she needed.

Petyr smiled. “It’s not enough, is it? You want more, don’t you?”

Petyr was torturing her, and she hated and loved it at the same time. He pushed her thighs open and gave a hard thrust smacking against her. The jolt made her cry out but not in pain. Petyr started fucking her roughly, and pleasure spiked rapidly.

“Oh, God…”

Petyr chuckled darkly against her throat, “I knew it. You need a hard fuck.” He pulled almost all the way out and rammed to the hilt, slamming her hips into the mattress. “You’ve been sheltered your whole damn life. Never allowed to experience anything but being the good girl, have you?” Petyr would alter between shallow thrusts and then slammed into her, and she cried out again in pleasure.

“But you’re not a good girl, are you Sansa?” Petyr angled her hips and fucked her harder. “Fuck me back…Yes, this is what you want, isn’t it” he groaned as Sansa lost all control.

She planted her feet on the mattress and gave it back to him, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Yes. Oh god, yes…” she heard her voice call out. Petyr reared up and hooked his arm under her knee and gave it to her rough. They were still wet, and the slapping of bodies mixed with moans had her back arching.

“Fuck yes, that’s it. Give it to me,” Petyr growled out, and she felt him even grow bigger inside her. Oh shit, he was going to come inside her, and he wasn’t wearing anything. Fuck, but it was too good when her walls clenched him hard. “You’re so wet and tight…”

He was still pounding her when she felt it. The pressure was building, and Sansa couldn’t stop it. “Oh, my God… Petyr, holy shit…” she whispered clutching him.

“Do you want me to make you come?” he whispered back as he thrust harder and faster.

“Yes… please, Petyr, please…” She wanted nothing more at this moment. Nothing else mattered except the intense pleasure he was giving. Sansa thought she would die if that dam didn’t burst soon.

He grunted in the effort and pressed his thumb against her clit and she broke. “Oh fuck…” she moaned and bucked wildly against him as she fell apart. His thrusts became erratic when finally, he grabbed her hips as he pulsed and spilled inside her with a deep groan. Petyr laid his head on her chest ultimately spent and didn’t pull out. Their chests heaved in unison from the exertion as Sansa let him rest on top of her not knowing what came next.

This wasn’t even sex, this was straight-up hardcore fucking. Guilt bubbled up again mixed with a little shame at how much Sansa liked it. Oh, dear God, did she like it. Having Petyr fuck her was glorious and yet suddenly a voice she never expected to hear after mind-blowing sex echoed in her head…

_He’s good, isn’t he?_

 


	23. After Burn

_He's good, isn't he?_

 

Sansa didn’t have any other man to compare Petyr to really since he was her first. Yes, he was good if he made her climax like that. She was scared and nervous just like that morning and in the secret corridor, but this time she didn’t run away. It had hurt, just as her mother said it would, but it wasn’t as bad as she feared. By the time Petyr had her on the bed, her body was aching for him. Sansa had always thought that having sex was more gentle and romantic. She had seen the movies and read the books and wondered if she let him, would Petyr be easy with her.

He was everything but easy on her. As always, Petyr was in control and knew how to get her worked up. God, she was a perfect mess with this man. Sansa had no idea when she woke up that she would be getting her brains fucked out this morning… especially after all that had happened. That little thought triggered another making her wonder if that’s why he took it to the next level. Would it mean, in his own twisted way, that he cared for her? Or she could be thinking too much into it. It was probably exactly as he said; the trail she accidentally left led him to believe the open bathroom was an offer.

Their heartbeats had settled down and he was still lying on top of her with his head on her chest. His breath was warm on her cooling skin and she could feel the different textures of his body on hers in the stillness of the moment. The coarse hair on his chest and abdomen slightly tickled. A hand rested on the side of her ribs just below her breast while the other was lightly caressing her thigh that was still hooked in his arm. The position had her splayed wide under his hips and lightly hairy thighs. Her core was still aching where their sexes were joined and Sansa thought by now he should have pulled out. Petyr rested inside her and seemed to have no intention of moving at the moment.

Everything told her she should get up, push him off, yell at him for not putting on a condom, but all she could do was lay there. Her body was sated and her mind reeled on what they just did. She lost her virginity to this man. Once she would have thought it was a more sacred thing to give away but then again he didn’t exactly ask. He just took it. Petyr didn’t make love to her, it was pure raw fucking and Sansa never realized it could feel that good. She pushed away the feelings of guilt and shame and quieted that nagging, smug voice belonging to a certain brunette and let herself enjoy just a small moment.

She didn’t know when her hands started caressing the damp skin of his back or when she involuntarily clenched him, forcing a soft grunt from his lungs. He didn’t move except for the hand on her thigh and Sansa smiled at a dirty thought. She squeezed those muscles again around his softening cock and felt it twitch inside her. He teased the shit out of her and she wondered if she could do the same to him. Maybe he was tired or maybe she could coax him again. The idea was wicked in her mind. He fucked her senseless and she wanted him again already. Perhaps she was being wanton, but Sansa pushed that thought down as she made her decision. She had read about contracting the pelvic muscles in a magazine and wondered if it really worked.

She started flexing those muscles in a pattern and felt him begin to harden. Dear God, she was making him hard inside her and it was thrilling to feel. Petyr’s breath was harsh and a strained groan tore from his throat. The hand tightened on her thigh, gripping the muscle as she began to rock under him. Her pelvic bone hit his in a way that sparked that bundle of nerves at her apex and she was completely on fire once again. His cock grew inside her as she wrapped her thighs around his waist fucking him slowly.

“Fucking hell…” he cursed softly and raised his head to take a nipple in his mouth. He suckled her making her hiss and sift her fingers in his salt and pepper hair.

Sansa rocked her hips making him slide every so slightly inside of her. It was still a tad sore but she knew it would go away soon.  She clenched him hard again making him gasp and stop his attentions on her breast. The look on his face was pained and she knew she had him. She was making him lose control even if just a moment. That thought made her smile.

“Fuck me back…” she cooed echoing his words that made his eyes open and stare at her in astonishment. She could feel his cock throb and she clenched him again forcing out a growl in pleasure as he started thrusting slowly.

“Yes, that’s it,” she whispered spurring him on. Sansa leaned up and kissed him softly bringing his head down to her. "You like my tight, little pussy don't you?" Sansa thought it was funny when it was said in porn videos but she couldn't resist it.

Petyr devoured her mouth all the while keeping a steady pace with his hips. That wonderful pressure was building again and she couldn’t stop the loud moans. She heard her voice say in between kisses that she wanted it faster and harder and he gave her what she ached for. Her hands didn’t know what to do. They were caressing his back and grabbing his backside pulling him into her as he grunted deeply.

She wanted to talk dirty like he did and see if he liked it as much as she had. “Oh yeah, baby, give it to me,” she cried, “I want you to make me come.”

Petyr fucked her deeper and groaned out, “Say it again.”

“I want you to… Oh!”

He hit a spot and she lost her voice. Oh shit, she really was going to come again. Sansa dug her heels into his backside and his strained voice growled out again.

“Say it.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear and racked her brain as he was bringing her to orgasm. “I want you to…”

  
“Again,” he commanded and she knew what he wanted now.

“I  _want_  you…” she moaned seductively into his ear and he drove into her harder and faster. Oh God, she was almost there for the second time. Petyr was more vocal than before in his harsh groans and it told her he was close. She pushed it further, “Oh fuck, I want you.” She wrapped her arms around him and whimpered, “I’m gonna come… oh, Petyr…”

That was it; he lost it and drove into her hard breaking her at the same time. He moaned into her mouth as he came again pumping inside her. Sansa thought she should care, but since he already came inside the first time, it didn’t seem like it mattered at all right now. She would worry about it later.

This time, he pulled out and she could feel the fluids go with him. All at once, she became nervous for some unknown reason. They were no longer joined and now she was just a naked girl lying on a bed after being fucked twice by a man twice her age.

Petyr moved off her and collapsed by her side on his stomach completely exhausted. He turned his head towards her and huffed deeply, “Woman, you’re going to kill me.”

Sansa wanted to smile because she knew that was as close to tenderness that she was going to get from him, but she couldn’t. The first time, he took her, seduced and teased her and then took her again all while she cried his name. Moments ago, she teased him and made him take her for the second time. Now, he was gazing at her with tired eyes and she felt completely exposed. She gripped the sheet and pulled it across covering her bits from his stare and he chuckled.

“A little late to be shy, sweetling,” he smiled. With a contented sigh, Petyr pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her. “I brought you some breakfast. I’m taking a shower.” And just like that, he got up and walked across the room disappearing in the bathroom.

Sansa looked around and saw a tray laden with a lovely breakfast sitting on a table. The sound of running water came from the bathroom and she sat up on the bed in confusion. She had just been dismissed as easily as that. Did she expect him to cuddle her in afterglow or whisper sweet nothings to her?

She was hungry but wanted to wear something more than a sheet. Sansa gathered his shirt and bra near the door but her knickers were just inside the bathroom. She poked her head inside and he was washing with his back to her. She didn’t know why she was nervous. All she had to do was walk in and grab the clothing. Sansa stepped into the door and his voice laughed.

“I don’t have the energy for a third round, my darling. But if it’s a shower you want, there’s more than enough room…”

He hadn’t turned and Sansa thought this man had eyes in the back of his head. She snatched the knickers from the floor and fled back into the bedroom. Sansa dressed quickly but realized she did need a shower to clean herself. She smelled strongly of sex and had both of their fluids between her legs. If anything, that was the reality check of what happened between them this morning. She looked around for anything she could use, not daring to enter the bathroom again. Sansa took the cloth napkin from the tray and wiped herself spying a hint of blood mixed with his essence.

It was done. She was a woman now and not in the way she ever expected. The water was shut off and Sansa took the soiled napkin and searched for a waste bin. Just as Petyr entered the room wrapped in a towel, Sansa tossed the cloth in a small bin by the wardrobe. “I have some clothes for you since you feel the need to be fully protected, even though the thought of you in nothing more than my shirt is enticing.”

Sansa pulled the shirt together and sat down on the bed. Petyr walked around to the table and picked up the tray bringing it to her. He sat down and put the tray between them. Without a word, he drank some orange juice and offered her the glass. Petyr had made breakfast for her but was clearly famished after this mornings exercise. Sansa took the glass and finished it off after picking up a piece of buttered toast.

It was unnerving as he watched while she ate in silence. There was a hint of a smile on his lips and something in his eyes held the tiniest bit of tenderness. “More juice?” he asked quietly.

Sansa nodded her head avoiding his gaze. Petyr walked out wearing only the towel and Sansa made for the shower to clean herself quickly. This time she closed the bathroom door and had a towel next to the shower. When she returned, Petyr was already lounging on the bed, eating her toast without a care in the world.

Her yoga pants and top were sitting next to him and Sansa desperately wanted to change into clean clothes. She walked over and grabbed the clothing avoiding his eyes again. She was returning to the bathroom to dress when she heard his tired voice speak out in irritation, “We fucked, you’re not a virgin anymore and it’s not the end of the world.”

She huffed in annoyance.  _Fuck him_. Sansa dropped the towel and dressed in front him with a challenging stare.  _Satisified?_

Petyr smiled thinly, “There is nothing wrong in what we did. It wasn’t sinful, shameful or anything of the sort. It’s sex. People do it every day. It’s meant to be pleasurable. Why you continue to harbor this guilt is beyond me. Do you believe I think less of you?” He drank his glass of juice observing her and she shook her head slightly. “Do you really believe I think of you as a whore?”

Sansa thought about it for a moment and shook her head in silence as Petyr sighed. “Sansa, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wanted to fuck you for some time. I enjoyed it immensely and I gather you did as well. Sex with the right person can make all the difference.”

She finally found her voice, “And you think you’re the right person?”

Petyr laughed heartily, “I’m not bragging at all. I meant  _you_.”

Sansa must have had the oddest look on her face because Petyr seemed to be enjoying her confusion and discomfort. He patted the bed next to him and Sansa tentatively sat down next to the tray of her half-eaten breakfast growing cold. “There is a side to you that you are fighting. I see it every day. You always knew you were different from your family, yes? There is a daring and darker streak to you, Sansa than I ever saw in your mother.” That perked her ears up. Petyr seemed to like her mother once but suddenly now someone was pointing out Sansa was not like her.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” she inquired cautiously.

“ _Good_. Don’t get me wrong, your mother was a good woman but she was never going to survive in this world. Your father protected you the best he could and well, we saw how well that went.”

Sansa’s eyes flared and he saw it. “Simmer down, it’s the truth so you better get used to it,” he added testily. “You want something different in this world. You don’t want to marry some college boy and pop out five kids and lead a normal,  _boring_ life.” Petyr studied her and smiled, “You need something more. You’re fighting against your natural instincts. Your family told you had to be a certain way all your life but that’s not who you are. I suspected it the moment you asked me to help you kill Joffrey. Each day you grew stronger and more resilient even after Ramsay poisoned you. Ned and Cat’s daughter would have never allowed me to touch her in any way. When you let me fuck you… no, when you fucked me back and made me come, I knew it. You were never the meek and sweet girl they wanted you to be. You could be a much stronger and smarter woman if you could only let go."

Petyr leaned up and gazed in her eyes. “Want to know why fucking me felt so good? Not because it was perceived as wrong or sinful but because it was what your logic was telling you, you need. You needed to be able to let go, be free. Stop pretending to be guilty of a person you never were. This is who you are. Take what you want. There is no shame in it," he pressed on. “You are a bad girl with a good girl image. Which will work well for you if you know how to use it,” he grinned running his finger along her jaw. After a moment of silence, his face changed, “There’s something else bothering you. Might as well spit it out now.”

“You didn’t… well, you didn’t wear any protection, and…” Sansa couldn't help but mutter out in anxiety.

“And I came inside you, that’s it?” Petyr surmised. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, I assure you. I’ll see the chemist today and find you something.”

“But…” she stumbled. Shit, how was she supposed to word this question? “Are you… I mean… do you have… “

“A disease?  _No_.” Petyr chuckled humourlessly. “I don’t sleep around if that’s what you’re getting at.”

 _But you fucked my aunt not too long ago_.

“And if you thinking about your aunt, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have touched her without something,” he answered her silent question. “I would have preferred not to have touched her at all but…” Petyr waved it off in annoyance. He wasn’t about to talk about it, least of all to Sansa.

_I don’t sleep around…_

Part of Sansa smiled at that. Maybe nothing ever happened between Myranda and him. Perhaps it was all jealousy because she assumed Petyr wanted Alayne instead. Last night came rolling back and Sansa needed answers.

“Who do you think wants me dead, Petyr?” she finally asked.

Petyr seemed to debate the question or whether to tell her his views. “What did Lysa say to you last night?”

Sansa told the truth. “She came in demanding to see you. Olyvar tried to placate her but she wouldn’t have it. She demanded that I call you. She said that you would pick up for me,” she explained gauging his reaction.

“She didn’t ask you anything else, say anything else?” he inquired not fully believing her. Sansa thought about telling she saw her scar but held it back. Her instinct told her to wait on that bit of information.

“No, it was all about you. She said she would come every night until she sees you in person,” Sansa remembered the woman telling Olyvar.

“Yet Olyvar said she specifically wanted to talk to you, why?” he pointed out.  _Shit_ , he talked to Olyvar his morning.

“I’m telling the truth. She wanted to see you and… she did say something along the lines that you had me working now as a whore… she called you hers, I now remember,” Sansa explained simply.

He seemed to be mulling it over, this new information and Sansa decided to throw it out there. “Do you think Aunt Lysa would want Alayne dead because of you?”

 _That’s good,_  she thought.  _Keep it about Alayne._

“I can’t completely disregard it, but something doesn’t seem to fit.” The wheels were turning in his head and Sansa could see he had been trying to figure it out.

“The club was checked by security before locking the place down, correct?” he asked and his gaze told her she better not lie to him.

“Yes, and Olyvar double-checked it. I let him out and locked the door. I was alone as far as I knew. Olyvar waited with me for some time for you to come and it got so late…” Sansa shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

“Lysa is batshite crazy, but this seems too far for her. Yes, she knew I was gone because I told her myself but she couldn’t know that you stayed in the club unless someone told her and that’s where I can’t figure out who that might be. Olyvar wouldn’t and no one else gives a shit about you.” He winced, “ _Alayne_ , I mean.”

_Except for Myranda._

“Yet Lysa still came to the club expecting I was there and lying to her," he continued. "That means we have another problem.” Petyr stared at her trying to see if she was holding something back. “Whom have you been talking to?”

“What? No one!” Sansa exclaimed.

“I told you not to get personal. I let it slide with Olyvar but even that is too close to the edge. Don’t lie to me, Sansa.” Petyr warned.

She wondered how much Olyvar told him and cursed herself for being open. “You told me to knock Myranda down a few pegs… and cornered me about you. Well, you and I. She said everyone knew we were fucking upstairs. She said that you … and she were…” Sansa couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Myranda told you that she and I had a relationship is that it?” he smirked.

“Basically. And that you pretty much fucked every girl in the place, but yeah,” she mumbled and glanced at him.

Petyr howled in laughter and lay back against the bed. Sansa didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. There was still the question of if he knowingly sent girls to Joffrey and Ramsay that ended up being beaten but she didn’t dare voice it yet.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure,  _ever_ ,” he laughed. “You’re the exception especially considering I don’t ever expect to see you whoring yourself out.”

Sansa didn’t exactly feel better knowing that but it did raise the question, “Would Myranda do something like this? I can’t think of anyone else. Not a woman anyway. I haven’t met anyone except those two that just happen to hate me.”

“You think Myranda hates you, why?” the laughter now gone from Petyr’s face.

“She’s marking her territory? How the fuck should I know?” Sansa was getting sick of this line of questioning. Jesus, she was the one that was almost murdered.

“We’ll find out soon enough. I told Olvyar that you’re gone. Something happened last night and you quit,” he smiled. “But he is to accidentally reveal to Myranda that someone broke into the club and killed you and the reason I didn't say so is because I didn't want the other girls frightened."

“You already suspected her.” She wasn’t asking and anger flooded her brain that Petyr was fishing Sansa for information.

“Since the incident with Ramsay, yes. And well, let’s say she’s been a problem with new girls,” Petyr told her watching her carefully.

_He knew! This son of a bitch!_

“You think I don’t know what goes on even when I’m not there?” Petyr opened a drawer and took out a pack of cigarettes.

“You sent those girls knowing they would be hurt?” The disgust in Sansa’s voice was clear as day.

“No. But I found out after that Myranda knew and that she didn’t want any competition,” he answered coldly as he lit his cigarette.

“Then why keep her around? You can’t trust her.”

“I don’t trust anybody,” he retorted with ice. “I kept her because that’s what you do with your enemies. Keep them close. Secondly, she makes me money.”

“And by keeping her close, she could have had me killed if you didn’t come back when you did,” she spat.

“Possibly. It certainly would have ruined how things turned out today, I must say. The threat of imminent danger does make sex better, don’t you think?” he smirked as he exhaled the smoke making a perfect ring.

“You bastard, you knowingly put me in danger like that?” Sansa was reeling with fury as she stared at his nonchalant demeanor.

“You imply that I knew one or both women had it in for you and purposefully left you alone to save you at the last possible moment,” Petyr snapped frostily. “You put yourself in danger by letting both of those bitches get the better of you.”

“That’s not fair! I didn’t…”

“Life isn’t fair, sweetling. That’s why you take control of it the best way you can. Know your enemies and never let them know who you are and what you want. Find out everything there is to learn. What we don’t know usually gets us killed. I told you this was a dangerous game. If last night didn’t get that through your thick skull, you’ll be dead soon because I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Is drugging me, protecting me too?” Sansa lashed out. She might as well throw it out there.

“Yes, in fact. I didn’t need you doing something stupid like run out of the club while I cleaned up and disposed of the body. That’s what I’ve been doing all night, if you must know.  _Protecting you_.” The chill in his voice could have frozen the bay. “Now let me dress, we’re leaving soon.” Petyr stood up and strode over to his wardrobe pulling out his clothes.

“Where are we going?” Sansa asked warily.

“I’m taking you to Martin to touch up your hair. We leave tomorrow morning on the yacht. I hope you’re not prone to seasickness. You’ll make my trip miserable.”

Sansa didn’t know if she should ask where they sailing to and thought better of it. She wondered if he was going to get her other clothes and belongings since she clearly wasn’t going back to the club anytime soon.

“I packed all of your things and they’re in the next room. It’s best you sleep there tonight.”


	24. What Could Have Been

 

Sansa sat silently drowning in her thoughts as Petyr drove them back to the city.

That morning, she stormed off to the room he indicated was for her use and slammed the door. She was so angry with him that she barely noticed the beauty of the room. It reminded her of early morning when the sun hadn’t peeked over the horizon painting the sky in dusky blues and violets. It was very feminine compared to the rest of the house and she vaguely wondered if this room had once belonged to someone special.

To hell with Petyr. She didn’t want to think about him right now. Sansa saw her clothes and personal items laid out on the bed. This room had a connecting bathroom of her own and Sansa stepped inside. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back. Whoever Sansa used to be was disappearing and this bitter woman was taking her place.

She combed her hair and put on a bit of makeup knowing he would want to leave soon. Sansa walked back into her new bedroom and saw a few shopping bags on the floor next to the bed. She hadn’t seen them when she first walked in. She emptied the contents onto the bed and found more clothes. Why the hell was he buying her more things?

He bought her an assortment of casual clothes, hats, sunglasses, sandals; a couple of summer dresses and to her shock a bathing suit. It was a two-piece and looked modest enough but still, he had made the point of buying her things he liked or wanted to see her in. Where the fuck were they going? It was autumn now and a bit chilly to wear a bikini even in Kings Landing.

Sansa tossed the flimsy garment across the room when Petyr walked in without knocking. He was dressed casually in jeans and a fitted jumper but still managed to look effortlessly chic. “Are you done with your tantrum or do you need a few more minutes?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

She pushed past him and headed down the stairs as he followed leisurely. Petyr picked up his keys and walked towards the kitchen opening a door for her and tossed her a hat and sunglasses that had been sitting on the bed a moment ago. He flicked on the light and she saw a few different cars parked in the garage including the Jaguar she recognized. He walked to the black BMW instead, opening the door and waited impatiently.

“Why are we taking this car?” she probed.

“I don’t usually drive this one into the city. If anyone were watching the club, they would have noticed the Jag. If my little ruse is working, and you’re presumed dead, they hopefully won’t be looking for it. I don’t plan on going to the club today. When we left, it looked as though I was alone at least. Nevertheless, it would be safer to use this one instead. Put on the hat and sunglasses.”

Sansa sank into the leather seat and Petyr closed the door. She did as he said and checked herself in the small mirror on the visor. Petyr sat down and closed his door. This was a tight spaced sportscar compared to the Jag and even that was close quarters. He backed out and she couldn’t help but ask.

“You don’t think anyone followed you here?”

“It’s possible but I’m fairly good at knowing when I’m being tailed, sweetling. If I was, I certainly would not have led them here. This isn’t my first rodeo,” he goaded her. “One doesn’t do this kind of work and not know when he’s being followed.”

“Lysa followed and you didn’t know,” she prodded him with a smirk. God, why the fuck was she baiting him?

Petyr stopped the car and stared at her. “Well, it’s a good thing I know who is watching me now, isn’t it? If we’re being followed again, I suppose I’ll just have to kill you and be done with it.” His icy tone said he wasn’t joking and Sansa clammed up. “Are you finished?”

Sansa nodded her head and her stomach tightened. He had never really threatened her before, not like this.

“Good,” he retorted.

That was the last thing they said to each other since leaving the house. It felt like hours getting to the city as the void between them grew in the small car. Finally, Petyr pulled over next to the salon and parked alongside the curb.

“I’ll pick you up in a few hours. Do not leave the salon or talk to anyone except Martin. Tell him to charge my account,” Petyr instructed.

Sansa stepped out of the car and no sooner did she shut the door, he drove off leaving her on the sidewalk. In a matter of hours, he was back to treating her like a dumb child and it hurt. Sansa took a deep breath before walking into the salon where a smiling Martin greeted her. She had never been so happy to see a friendly face. But like Olyvar, he answered to Petyr and she was careful in what she did and said.

She sat in his chair and he sifted his fingers through her hair and a look of surprise coloured his face. The red. She remembered Martin telling Petyr that she would look good in red and he smiled at her in the mirror.

“Shame, it’s a beautiful colour.”

Martin didn’t say anything more about it and started covering her roots. She could see why Petyr came to him.  _Discretion_. Don’t ask questions. Do your job and get paid handsomely. Sansa wondered how many people were on Petyr’s payroll. Somehow she knew if she stepped out of line here or tried to leave the salon, Petyr would know in an instant.

The hair didn’t take long and Sansa wondered why Petyr was leaving her there for a few hours. She didn’t need another makeover. Martin took her back to another room where a table was set and a woman was waiting for her. “What’s this?” she asked warily.

“Waxing, darling. You didn’t know?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh, silly me. I forgot,” Sansa lied. “I thought it was a manicure today.”

“Oh, that too after this. It will give you time to relax afterwards.” He spied her nervousness and whispered in her ear, “You’re first waxing, is it?” Sansa nodded her head. “Don’t worry love, we’ll numb you down. You’ll never feel a thing, I promise.”

Martin shut the door and left her with the woman and Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if this was a form of punishment from Petyr. Maybe he thought it would hurt and it was his way of getting back at her insubordination. It didn’t take a long time and before she knew it, Sansa was in the middle of her manicure. Sailing, bikini and summer clothes. They had to be going somewhere warm and Sansa thought of Oberyn. He was from Dorne. Petyr seemed to be setting up a deal with him and the yacht was for transport. But what were they transporting? The Martells were drug lords from the south and Sansa closed her eyes in disbelief. Petyr couldn’t be taking her on a bloody drug deal for the Syndicate, could he? She was going from one dangerous game to another and it made her heart race in fear.

In no time at all, she was finished and Petyr still hadn’t returned. Sansa lightly paced the salon and noticed the feeling between her legs. It was completely smooth because the woman gave her what Martin called a Brazillian with a devilish twinkle in his eye. She was hypersensitive down there but it made her angrier more than excited. Sansa was turning into his little plaything and she didn’t like it one bit. Martin handed her a gift bag of new goodies with a wink and she hated that he thought she was probably banging the fuck out of his rich patron. She liked Martin but she was mad at Petyr and had to force a smile before walking out the door.

“Ms. Stone, he said that you were to stay inside,” Martin caught her hand and lowered his voice.

“I just need some air. I’ll only be a minute, I promise.” Just as she turned around, Sansa slammed into a man walking the other direction. She almost fell over when the man caught her and held her up.

“I’m so sorry, miss, I didn’t see you…” the soft voice apologized.

Sansa looked up and saw a friendly pair of blue eyes. Harry smiled and recognized her instantly from last night. He helped steady her and let go of her waist. He really was handsome and it wasn’t a trick of the club lights or alcohol.

“You’re not hurt are you? It’s Alayne, right?” he asked looking her over.

Sansa couldn’t help but smile back. He was just being nice, she told herself. She nodded sweetly and he beamed. “What are the odds?” he smiled.

She didn’t know what to say. Petyr told her specifically not to talk to anyone. But this man was harmless. He was just a cute guy that hit on her. If he thought negatively of Myranda, he couldn’t be too bad, she thought.

They stood in awkward silence and Sansa glanced at Martin through the glass. Shit, this wouldn’t end well. She should just say goodbye politely and go back inside and wait for Petyr.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. “I’m going to sound like an idiot, but you look great.”

“Thanks,” she smiled lightly. Fuck, she needed to leave but suddenly her feet refused to move.

“Where are your glasses? Need them for only dark places?” he teased.

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_  

Sansa tried not to look like a deer in headlights and fished for her sunglasses in her handbag.

She found them and quickly put them on with a smile, “Prescription.”

“Ah,” he laughed. “Well, now that you can see me properly, you’ll run away in fear.”

He was nice and was flirting with her in the sweetest way. Sansa couldn’t stop the smile forming on her face. This was the kind of guy that she would have loved to have hitting on her before…

Her smile dropped instantly and took a step backwards. “No, not run away but I do have to go,” she said politely. She didn’t have it in her to be rude to him.

“Oh? I can’t bribe you with a coffee for a few minutes?” he said with such hope in his voice and Sansa felt bad.

“I really can’t, I’m so sorry. I have a lot of work to do,” she apologized.

“The club doesn’t open until the evening. You can’t spare me twenty minutes? I promise I don’t bite. I would very much like to buy you a coffee unless you’re a tea kind of girl?” He was trying hard but Sansa couldn’t give him any hope. Alayne was a ghost. She didn’t exist. And as much as old Sansa would have jumped at the chance…

“Sweetling, get in the car,” a cold voice rang out behind her.

Sansa closed her eyes at the sound of his voice and a chill ran through her. She took a step back and dared a look behind her. The black BMW sat a few feet away and the engine was humming. Sansa glanced back at Harry and the look on his face was contempt as he gazed at the man in the car.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Sansa slowly backed away and was about to turn when Harry grabbed her hand.

“You don’t have to go with him. Not if you don’t want to.” Harry’s blue eyes bored into hers asking if she was okay.

“He’s my boss. I have work to do,” and tried to pull away but he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Your boss shouldn’t talk to you like that. He doesn’t own you,” Harry’s voice was determined and part of Sansa felt giddy at this man’s chivalry.

“Take your hand off the lady, if you want to keep it,” Petyr’s voice slid over on a sheet of ice.

The blonde’s chest puffed up in defense and didn’t let go of her. “I’m just talking to my friend, she’ll be with you in a moment,” Harry jeered.

Petyr walked over slowly like a panther checking out his prey. He held his hand out to Sansa, his eyes never leaving the blonde rival. “My dear, this boy is no friend of yours.”

Sansa didn’t dare disobey him, his tone told her that much. She pulled her hand from Harry’s grip and backed up slowly to Petyr’s side. His hand pushed her gently behind him. “I advise you to seek elsewhere for an afternoon tea companion,” he warned the boy.

“Hey, I don’t want to get her in trouble with  _the boss_  but she should be able to talk to anyone she likes.” Harry turned his attention to Sansa and his face softened. “May I see you outside of work?”

“Yes, let’s let the lady decide, shall we?” Petyr smiled at her and it wasn’t pleasant at all.

Sansa glanced between him and Harry and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”

Satisfied, Petyr smirked at the blonde, “Fine, that’s settled,” he pulled gently at Sansa’s arm back to the car and opened the door for her.

She sat down and couldn’t look at the rejected man on the sidewalk as Petyr closed the door. Another time and place, Sansa would have slapped a man like Petyr and left with the young blonde. She wondered what would be if she had met Harry before she left college. Before she met Joffrey. She’d never know now.

Petyr sat behind the wheel and slammed his door shut. "Is he going to be a problem?"

The question rang in her ears and a hint of fear for the boy filled her stomach. "No," she answered firmly.

She knew not to lie to him and in the mood, he was in, she knew especially not to push his buttons. Petyr put the car into drive and pulled out into traffic. She waited and fully expected him to berate her at disobeying him and putting herself at risk by talking to strangers, but oddly he didn’t say another word. He was completely silent and that scared her more than his reprimanding ways.

The entire drive back to the house he was silent but the air in the car was thick and Sansa felt as though she couldn’t breathe. It took forever to drive around the bay and she was dreading the destination. She glanced at his profile and Petyr’s jaw was set as his eyes focused on the road. Yes, he was fuming, she gathered and thought it better to stay quiet.

He pulled into the garage, turned off the engine, exited the car and opened the door to the kitchen so quickly as if he couldn't stand her presence any longer. Petyr suddenly stopped as she got out of the car and with his back to her, she heard his voice low and controlled, “The next time you disobey me and you’ll wish I left you on your bedroom floor.”

Without a glance back, he entered the house leaving her breathless in the garage.


	25. Afraid

 

 

For the remainder of the afternoon, Petyr provisioned and rigged the yacht for tomorrow’s sail. The next few days were expected to be unseasonably warm for autumn and she could see Petyr breaking a sweat every time he came into the house. She was going to ask if he needed help but the look on his face told her to leave him alone.

She ate a late lunch alone and wandered a little around his house. It really was beautiful and Petyr had exceptional taste but it was cold. Sansa remembered thinking that the first time she was here. There was no life in this house. Petyr seemed to collect beautiful things and display them in his own personal museum. She made her way around a few rooms and ended up in what looked like his den next to the office Lysa confronted her in that night.

The windows looked out to the gardens and she could see Petyr coming up the stone steps from the boat below. She was going to watch the telly but didn’t know if he wanted her touching anything of his. She was completely bored and returned to her room and tried on her new clothes.

It was uncanny how he bought items that fit her perfectly. Just as she thought this morning, the bathing suit was modest and classy and her casual wardrobe was comfortable. Sansa laughed to herself knowing she would buy clothes like this. Petyr knew her too well which was also unsettling. Petyr seemed to know too many things. He knew when to show up at the worst time possible to find her with a handsome and flirtatious young man. Sansa knew he didn’t want her talking to anyone and if she hadn’t gone outside, Harry would have walked by never knowing she was inside the salon. Only two people were led to believe Alayne was dead and Harry wouldn’t have reason to speak to either one.

_Ah, but he could go to the club asking to see Alayne. What if he ran into Myranda and said he saw her only this morning?_

She was fucking up Petyr’s plan and she knew it. But the way he acted around Harry was more like a jealous boyfriend than her boss or partner in crime. He said Harry was no friend of hers. Did Petyr know him? Sansa wasn’t sure if he was angrier that she disobeyed him by talking to strangers or that she was lightly flirting with a very attractive man her own age. They had sex twice this morning and Sansa wondered if it meant anything to him or if it was just sex between two people. And then there were the threats. Why was he suddenly so mean? She knew she shouldn’t have baited him by speaking about Lysa but the way he said he might have to kill her, turned her blood cold. Sansa didn’t doubt he just might do it. What was she to him anyway?

Did he have another plan to get rid of Joffrey? If Alayne was dead or quit her job, how was she supposed to meet and seduce him now? Or did Petyr want to flush out her assassin first? So many questions plagued her mind to the point of a headache. She was so nervous about this boat trip and couldn’t fathom why he would take her with him. If it truly was a drug deal with the Martells, she thought Petyr should just leave her here instead. It wasn’t as if she had anywhere to go especially if someone wanted her dead. Then again, Petyr said his apartment was the safest place she could be and yet someone was able to sneak past security and wait for her to be alone.

The whole ordeal made Sansa shiver. The drug Petyr gave her last night put her in a dreamless sleep and after this morning's pleasant and unpleasant moments, it was the first she really had to think about it on her own. Sansa wondered if Myranda and Lysa ever spoke to each other. If Myranda was giving information to her aunt that could explain a possible motivation. Even though Petyr told Lysa he would not be at the club last night, she still came looking for him. Perhaps it was a lie. Maybe Lysa came in as a way to get the hired assassin in. The more Sansa thought about it, events started clicking together. The untimely brawl had most of the security team escorting people out of the club. Lysa had been at the club many times and could know of places a person may hide. Or that’s where Myranda helped out? In all the confusion and misdirection, this man possibly found a place to stay hidden until everyone was gone. He had waited until he knew Olyvar left. Sansa thought if she saw the video feeds, she was sure she could figure it out.

Sansa returned downstairs and made a pot of tea. The sun was beginning to set and she didn’t see Petyr outside anymore. She wasn’t sure if she should call out to him and ultimately decided against it. He would find her if he wanted to talk to her. Sansa picked up her tea and made for the den. As she entered the office, she saw Petyr watching the club security feeds on the large monitor with his bare feet up on the desk.

“Ah, tea. You read my mind,” Petyr smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took the cup from her hand and Sansa didn’t dare say she didn’t make it for him. She could see he was scanning certain rooms and had the moment the brawl started, on pause.

“I was just thinking about how the man got into the club and wondered if he was anywhere in the videos,” Sansa offered gingerly and wondering if he wanted her input or not. She stood next to him and rested her hand on the back of his chair and stared at the screen. Petyr glanced at her and back to the video.

“He’s there... watching you and Lysa,” Petyr pointed to an unmoving figure off to the side of the screen. The camera was from the corner of the bar and Sansa could see the back of her and Lysa’s heads. The crowd was dancing and moving except one man and he stared directly at them. Even as the brawl broke out and spectators moved in, the man held his position and then suddenly walked off-camera when security infiltrated the crowd.

“Where did he go?” Sansa asked as she looked at the other rooms.

Petyr didn’t answer as he scanned with a trained eye and paused the film and enhanced one camera feed. “There. See him hide behind the corner banquette in the VIP lounge?” Petyr pointed to the man behind the crowd being pushed out of the room. “Fucking Christ, how did they not see him?” She heard him mutter in anger.

Petyr fast-forwarded to where she and Olyvar were waiting on the main floor. By this time Olyvar had already checked the club but he never would have known a man was hiding in wait. Sansa watched her nightmare unfold on screen as she locked the door and turned off the lights. The man had emerged from his hiding place and knocked over a hookah to the floor. That was the sound she heard as she watched herself duck behind the bar. It was too dark in the club to see very well except for the streetlights illuminating from the few windows.

Sansa felt her heart race once again as the shadowy figure moved around the room as she stayed in her hiding place. The moment she was about to run for the lift, Sansa saw the man waiting for her by the bar. He must have heard her and was just waiting for her to poke her head out. The knife was so close to stabbing her and it still made her body flinch watching it all happen again.

She looked at Petyr and his face was unreadable. He watched the video of her being attacked completely detached as if he were a detective studying evidence of a crime. Sansa saw herself scurry to the lift and the man opening the doors. The shots fired from the gun lit a light spark in the darkness and the man fell to the floor. She couldn’t watch anymore and turned away. Petyr grabbed her hand and held it as he continued to watch. Twice now, she had come so close to dying with only Petyr to save her.

He held her hand so softly as if the mere touch of their skin was a conversation. “Are you hungry?” he spoke slowly though his eyes never left the screen.

“Yeah,” she replied softly.

“I’ll make dinner soon. Thank you for the tea.” The words left his mouth like silk and right before a smile started to emerge from the corner of her lips, she felt a small box placed in her hand.

Sansa pulled her hand away and looked at what he gave her. It was the morning after pill.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was a quiet affair. Sansa rarely spoke, but Petyr didn’t seem to mind. Frankly, he wasn’t in the mood for a pleasant dinner conversation tonight. It took him most of the afternoon to finish loading the boat and he was grateful for the solitude. Honestly, he wasn’t too comfortable with her at the house after this morning. He didn’t have to seduce her but when she kissed him back, he couldn’t help himself. It was too good to resist anymore. What surprised him was when she initiated the second round.

It had him thrilled and worried at the same time. Sex and intimacy was a great way to tie a person to you. After what happened last night, he needed to keep her with him. Petyr was all too concerned that Sansa would have bolted from the club while he cleaned up the mess downstairs. She would have been dead all too soon. When he returned from Dorne, he’d have to find a time to dispose of the body wrapped neatly and waiting in the basement of the club. The man didn’t have any identification on him and everything about him screamed a low-level thug. Petyr didn’t recognize the man from any part of the Syndicate and wasn't sure if that bothered him all the more.

In fact, Petyr was wondered why he continued with this charade. He really didn’t need Sansa to kill the boy but something in him kept her around. He enjoyed toying with her and certainly seducing her was becoming his favourite pastime. However, the second attempt on her life was something to be seriously considered. It would be better if he just killed her today and be done with it. Someone was watching him and he didn’t like it. It could be as simple as Lysa but a gut feeling told him no. Myranda was a nasty little bitch when she wanted to be but for the life of him, Petyr couldn’t understand why she would take such a risk as this. She would have to know he would figure it out sooner or later.

Then there was this damned boy he caught flirting with Alayne. The conversation between them, as he watched from the car, was familiar. _Too familiar._  The slight smile and the way she didn’t fully reject him, left an acid taste in Petyr’s mouth. He was trying to piece together where they had met when he saw the video from the bar. This blonde hit on her at the club not long before Lysa and the brawl. Alayne was a beautiful woman, it would be no surprise that a man would hit on her but something did not sit right with Petyr about him.

Petyr didn’t want to admit that jealousy was ripping through his veins at the sight of them. He claimed her only that morning and then to have this young man attempt to whisk his prize away made him threaten her life.

He looked at the time and it was very late. He had to be up early in the morning and yet Petyr couldn’t turn his mind off as he relaxed on his bed. He didn’t like that he was growing attached to his little bird. That was not the game he had in mind. That was never to be her role. Petyr was only going to teach her how seduction worked and then use her to get Joffrey. With the boy dead, Cersei would tear the Syndicate apart. Petyr was counting on it.

And this Ramsay seemed to be playing his own twisted little game that Petyr had yet to figure out. Oddly, it was playing in Petyr’s favour for the moment. With Joffrey murdered so recently after his father’s demise and that of the Starks would raise heavy suspicions. Petyr planted enough seeds about this boy’s trustworthiness to be given the head of his own House to run. With such close ties to the Lannisters, it may not take much to point the finger in a certain direction and far away from the club owner.

Olyvar’s texts told him the club ran smooth tonight and that he did as Petyr instructed in regards to Alayne. The staff was told she quit and Olyvar accidentally dropped a bomb with a rather smug Randa that a thief broke in and killed her as he tried to escape. Petyr knew she didn’t like Alayne but he was hoping for more of a reaction. He’d have to check the video, especially from her room when he returned.

Lysa was another matter. She said she would come every night until he talked to her personally. If she had anything on him or knew about Sansa, she would have let the cat out of the bag regarding her intentions. Fuck, this was becoming more complicated that he wanted it to be. Petyr was used to changing his plans on a dime, but this time he had more than himself to consider and that’s what was troubling him now. The girl that slept in the next room was becoming a weakness he didn’t need. For the first time in his life, Petyr was afraid and it wasn't for himself but this lovely girl he was growing to care about.

Just as his thoughts turned to her, he heard a muffled noise from down the hall. Petyr was alert and trained his ear to the sound when a loud scream echoed from her room. Petyr pulled a gun he had hidden from under his bed and moved quietly down the hallway. If anyone had entered his home, he would have known about it. But another scream erupted and he opened her door to find the girl in the corner of the room crouched on the floor. A quick scan of the room and he realized they were alone.

Sansa’s eyes were locked on the gun he held in his hand and he cursed himself for threatening her as he did. Petyr lowered the gun and raised his free hand, “Sweetling, it’s all right. I’m not going to harm you.” He walked towards her slowly and she tried to mold herself into the wall. “I heard you scream,” he spoke very softly.

There was definite fear in the girl’s eyes, fear of him and his stomach clenched at the thought. “He was going to kill me,” she whispered so softly, Petyr almost couldn’t hear her. “Then I woke up and you were holding the same knife…”

It was almost childlike the way she said it and something tore at his heart. He did this, he put this fear here and he was tearing this poor girl apart. Perhaps she wasn’t as strong as Petyr thought she was. He knelt down and set the gun on the bed and showed her his empty hands.

“It was a nightmare, sweetling. Only a bad dream,” he tried to explain it all away.

He moved closer and she flinched making his stomach tighten once again. He could see her eyes glancing at the doorway behind him. Petyr read her mind and before she could get up to run, he had her wrapped in his arms struggling on the floor. Petyr held her wrists in one hand and tangled his legs over hers to stop her kicking. God, she was stronger than she looked. His free arm held Sansa around her neck but not too tight to choke her. Realizing he wasn’t letting go, she finally started to settle down. He cooed and hushed in her ear telling her it was going to be all right.

After several tense minutes, he felt her body relax in his arms and rocked her gently. Was it only yesterday morning he made her quiver and moan his name and now she trembled in fear with a light whimper. He told her, he wouldn’t let anyone harm her and whispered sweet nothings. Petyr forgot how young she really was. Sansa had been through so much in just a matter of weeks. How easy it was to conveniently forget she had lost everything and was now had two attempts on her life. She was trying very hard to be someone else and Petyr never stopped to think that she really might not be up for the task.

Watching her with that damned boy this afternoon gutted him in more ways than one. It wasn’t that he was young and handsome, but that he was a harsh reminder of who Sansa used to be. Before all this murder and intrigue, she was just a young girl that would have loved the attention of a boy like him. Now, here she was held in Petyr’s arms as she tried so hard not to cry.

She was never going to be that sweet girl ever again, he winced. Petyr took a deep breath and released her wrists. With one hand he stroked her hair and continued to rock her gently. His other hand reached slowly and quietly for the gun on the bed. It would be for the best if he just did it now. Put the girl out of her misery. It was a spontaneous and stupid thing he did saving her life that rainy night. It was a very selfish thing by keeping her alive only to die in the end. Petyr knew he couldn’t leave loose ends after Joffrey was killed. He knew he couldn’t let her live. The whole point was to keep his own hands clean and use her to do the dirty work. _God damnit!_  He shouldn’t care about this girl in his arms.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?”

Petyr’s hand froze on the cold metal at the girl’s words. He left the gun on the bed and returned to tilt her face to look at him. “No,” he said firmly. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he told himself. Petyr honestly didn’t know what he was going to do with her.

He let her go and fumbled to stand up pulling her with him. “Let’s get you back into bed, we need to be up early in the morning.”

She willingly let him put her to bed and tuck her in like a child. Resignation was written on her face and Petyr didn’t know where that strong girl had disappeared to. He had pushed her too fast to change to fit his plans and he felt like it was more one step forward and three steps back.

Petyr brushed the hair from her face and was about to leave when she grabbed his hand.

“Stay,” she pleaded gently.

After this, why would she want him to stay? Petyr pulled his hand from hers and picked up the gun tucking it behind his back.

“I don’t think that is a good idea, my dear,” he insisted. Without a word, she turned on her side away from him. Part of him wanted to crawl into the bed with her and hold her to him but he knew he couldn’t. He should never have fucked her, he told himself.

Petyr walked back to his bedroom and lay down on his bed exhausted. This was going to be a long trip and he was dreading it more than ever. It was some time before he finally nodded off only to wake suddenly a short time later. A delicate arm was wrapped around his waist from behind and Petyr turned his head to see that Sansa had crawled into bed with him. He was normally a light sleeper and someone sneaking up on him in bed would have met with a deadly blow but somehow his subconscious knew it was her and his instincts didn’t kick in.

He knew he should wake her and tell her to go back to her room but he was too tired to care now. Petyr needed sleep and clearly she intended to sleep here tonight. He felt her snuggle deeper into his back and Petyr sighed quietly in frustration. No, he couldn’t let this go on any longer. He would not get attached to this girl. Lust was not affection. It was lust. He already took what he wanted and that was the end of it. Despite all the terrible things he did to her, she was holding on to him like a life raft in the ocean. Clinging to him meant life in this turbulent sea. She had no more affection for him than a drowning man had for a life preserver. It was purely survival.

Petyr lay his head back down and held her hand to his chest. In the morning, he knew what he would have to do.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	26. Gently Down The Stream

 

Petyr woke early and was dressed before Sansa began to stir. He had already prepped the boat by the time she came downstairs with her bags. Petyr had told her to pack enough clothing for a few days and other items she may need. The bathroom on the yacht was a modest size but he had a bit of storage in the main stateroom if she needed it. The cruiser wasn’t huge but every bit of space was utilized. It had two more small single berths and for its three passengers, it was more than plenty.

Sansa made a light breakfast for herself and handed him a bowl of fresh fruit and yogurt. They had not spoken yet this morning and Petyr wondered how much of last night was still bothering her. He gazed at her and thought she looked lovely in shorts and a light vneck t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and he was tempted to give it a gentle tug. She was cleaning up when the bell rang and Petyr smiled seeing his other boat companion on the security monitor. He unlocked the gates and told him to come around the back. The look on the girl’s face was pure shock. Clearly she thought it was only going to be the two of them.

“Get me out of this fucking shithole,” Oberyn’s voice could be heard as he entered from the patio. “I honestly don’t know how you stand living here, my friend. It’s only good for one or two days tops,” the Dornish man japed.

Petyr chuckled and finished locking the property up from the monitor. “We’ll be on our way shortly.”

Oberyn had finally spied Sansa from across the room. “Oh Petyr, tell me you're not leaving his lady here all alone?”

“No, she is coming with us,” he smiled at Sansa and warned Oberyn, “Behave… or she’ll be house-sitting for a few days.”

Oberyn waved him off with a laugh and walked over to Sansa, kissing her hand. “I will be nothing but a gentleman for this beautiful woman.”

Sansa smiled with a slight blush and Petyr refrained from rolling his eyes. Women would be the death of Oberyn Martell. But even Petyr had to admit it would be a very pleasurable way to die. Oberyn held her hand and guided Sansa out the patio door carrying her bags. The man never let up, Petyr thought. He quickly hauled upstairs to her room and added several more items to a bag and carried it back downstairs.

Petyr donned his sunglasses and followed them to the edge of the garden and down the stone steps. The weather was warm and not a cloud in the sky as he looked out over the bay. It couldn’t be a better day for being on the water. It was a passion he didn’t get to indulge too often.

He untethered the yacht from the pier and climbed in. The flybridge was covered and had enough room for a few people to sit and lounge next to the cockpit with a small minibar. Next to that was a door that led to the lower deck. Petyr had Sansa follow him down where the kitchen and dining area and staterooms were located. Oberyn handed down her bags along with his to Petyr as she looked around the small but luxurious space. Petyr guessed this was her first time on a yacht and didn’t imagine that she had ever sailed much if at all. This type of sports cruiser wasn’t more than 50 feet long but Petyr made sure that it was tailored to his tastes. The kitchenette and lounge were all in polished mahogany and silver fittings. The main stateroom was the only one with a queen bed and private bath. On the other side of the lounge was a smaller room with two single berths and a tiny bath.

Petyr took her bags and set them in the smaller room where his bag was already resting on one of the beds. He would give Oberyn the stateroom and try to keep the illusion that he and Alayne were not intimate although Petyr honestly didn’t think the man would care one way or the other.

Oberyn gave him a questioning look in regards to the sleeping arrangements but Petyr insisted with a gesture of his hand. The dark-haired man threw his bag on the bed and returned to the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee using a French press. “At least you have decent food and drink… even on a boat. Why do hotels insist on buying terrible coffee beans?” Oberyn complained mostly to himself and Sansa smiled truly for the first time in a few days.

“Bring me a cup, if you would. We need to get going,” Petyr said as he walked back up the small steps to the cockpit. He heard Oberyn talking to Sansa as he readied the boat.

“This is the only way to make a good coffee, darling. Where are the beans? Ah! Petyr, you even keep them in the cooler! Good man…” Oberyn called up to him and Petyr shook his head with a grin. It was going to be a long two days to Dorne and Petyr was sure his ears would bleed from all of Oberyn’s stories he was surely going to tell with Sansa to impress her.

He sat down and with the flick of a few switches the engines roared to life and Petyr slowly headed out from the point into the Narrow Sea. It was early enough and Petyr was positive they would make good time. A quick stop in Tarth to re-fuel and with any luck, they would be in Dorne by tomorrow morning.

Petyr set for full speed and relaxed back against the leather seat. The waters were smooth as they glided with the current. A few minutes later Sansa slowly made her way up to the flybridge holding two cups of coffee. She was being extra careful not to spill even though the boat moved very little against the waves. Petyr thanked her, taking the hot cup from her hand. For a moment it was quiet and surprisingly she sat next to him instead of the lounge just off to the side. She didn’t speak at all and just took in the view as the boat headed south around the point of the bay. Petyr’s eyes drifted down at the sound of her sandals falling from her bare feet as she stretched her legs out. And what lovely, long legs they were.

The peacefulness was broken when Oberyn made his way up and plopped onto the lounge. “Beautiful day on the sea, isn’t it?”

Petyr was silent and yet Sansa replied with politeness, “Yes, it is. I’m glad since this is my first time ever on a boat.”

Oberyn barked in laughter, “Oh my darling, this isn’t a boat. A boat would surely be a bore. This is a floating hotel room complete with…” Oberyn leaned across and opened the small cupboard door, “a minibar.” He pulled out a small bottle of Sambuca and added it to his coffee.

Petyr smiled and japed, “And it’s only…” he checked his watch, “nine o’clock. I’m impressed Martell, you waited a whole hour. The cigars are in the cupboard above the sink before you ask.”

“Found them already. Does it bother you, darling?” Oberyn asked Sansa and she shook her head with a smile as he sniffed the cigar and bit off the end. “Come over here my lady and tell me about yourself.”

Sansa glanced at Petyr and he warned her with his eyes not to get too personal. She took a few steps and Oberyn pulled her down next him. She told him a no-frills story that Petyr had taught her and very shortly after Oberyn interrupted her, “Hear this Petyr? This girl is dying for a good time and you have her doing your accounting. Tsk, tsk. Shame on you.” Oberyn returned his attentions to Sansa and Petyr kept quiet. Let him have his fun, for that’s all it is. “When we get to my city, Alayne, I will show you a good time. We will dine and dance and Petyr here will sit in the shadows and sip his whiskey like the sour fellow he is.”

Petyr glared at him and saw the grin that spread on Sansa’s face. She knew Oberyn was pressing his buttons and took enjoyment in watching it. He should be angry with her, the traitor, but a feeling spread through him at seeing her smile and laugh and he couldn’t be cross. Let her be happy, he told himself. Everything would change tomorrow.

Hours teetered by and Sansa went below to make a small lunch. Petyr listened half-heartedly to Oberyn’s boasting and couldn’t get his mind off this girl. It was past midday when the three of them ate and listened to Oberyn tell Sansa about his home. She was polite and listened intently letting the man talk a marathon. There were two things Oberyn loved: fucking and telling stories. Right now, Petyr was content with the stories and that the man knew better than to attempt anything with this pretty girl.

After awhile Oberyn went below deck to use the loo and Sansa came to sit by Petyr once again. “You like him, don’t you?” she asked looking out across the sea.

“Admittedly, yes. He’s a good fellow as far as kingpins and drug dealers go,” Petyr took a swig from his ale.

“Kingpin?”

“Yes, so don’t go falling in love with him. He’s married with several children.”

“ _Eight_ ,” Oberyn grinned as he returned from below. “Are you insisting on ruining my fun, Petyr?”

“You have fun with a new girl every night, Martell,” Petyr laughed.

“So does my wife…” Oberyn winked at Sansa, “So she tells me.”

“If you’ll excuse me gentlemen,” Sansa flushed and hurried below deck.

“I said to play nice, Martell,” Petyr teased with a hint of warning in his voice.

“I’ve done nothing but play nice,” Oberyn retorted with a laugh and waved him off as he took a seat in the back taking off his shirt to lie in the sun.

Petyr returned to steering the boat when Sansa walked up the steps a while later and his eyes widened. She was wearing the bathing suit he bought for her and he couldn’t stop staring. The two-piece fit her like a glove just as he pictured it would when he bought the damn thing. Her skin was porcelain and perfect as the thin navy blue material hugged her every curve. She held a towel and tanning oil while returning his stare.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked innocently.

The only words he could mutter were, “You will burn.”

“Maybe, but then you’ll have to help me with aloe vera, won’t you?”

Normally, Petyr would have admonished her for being overtly coy but the words died on his lips. She walked past Oberyn to the port side and forward to the bow where she laid down the large towel and began slathering on tanning oil. Oberyn came to stand next to Petyr as the men stared at the stunning woman before them.

Oberyn lowered his sunglasses, “Are you really going to tell me you haven’t had  _that_  yet?”

Petyr didn’t answer and took a desperate drink from his beer. “You of all people know I don’t mix business with pleasure. It complicates things.”

“My friend, you must truly be dead below the waist. You have an unbelievably beautiful and sexy woman at your beck and call and you have never once... “ Oberyn paused with a wicked smile, “Well, if you don’t want her…”

“Don’t even think about it, Martell. She’s not that kind of girl,” Petyr warned with venom in his voice.

“Oh, you can’t stop me from thinking about it. But don’t worry, I’m not the kind of man that forces a woman that doesn’t want him… you see, she only has eyes for one man.” Oberyn patted Petyr’s shoulder and smiled. “You’d be a fool to let a lovely creature like that out of your sight and I’ve never known you to be a fool. A woman that stunning who is willing to put up with you is a rare find indeed, my friend.”

Oberyn returned to his lounge chair in the sun leaving Petyr to gaze at the girl lying on her stomach in relaxation. The Dornish man was right in more ways than he knew. That was part of the problem. If Petyr allowed himself to care for this girl, she would become his weakness. He had too much at stake now to muck it up thinking with his cock and not his brain. Oberyn didn’t know who she was and what Petyr was up to. He only saw a beautiful woman to wine, dine and make love to every night.

The small island of Tarth was straight ahead and Petyr thought it best to not dock with a drop-dead gorgeous woman sunbathing on the bow. He only wanted to re-fuel here and anchor for the night off the coast for the safety of his cargo. They would be in Dorne by late morning Petyr calculated and hopefully, he could be heading back to Blackwater Bay later that afternoon. He didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary. Exchange goods for the payment he had below deck and be on his way.

“You best come inside, Alayne, we’ll be docking soon,” he called out to her.

The beauty raised her head and lowered her sunglasses and smiled at him. The woman grinning at him was completely different than the one scared shitless just last night. Petyr had to admit she adapted quickly or she was getting better at concealing it. He thought the act of killing Joffrey would still be too much for her. Her fear last night was real and it was strong enough to make her want to run. Today she was playing it safe being sweet and quiet with Oberyn in their midst but Petyr knew that this little excursion was only the calm before the storm. He couldn’t leave her behind even though he never intended to take her with him on this business trip. After the second attempt on her life, Petyr simple had to change his plans quickly and devise a new strategy.

Sansa wrapped her towel around her waist and came into the covered cockpit. He could see she was slightly red and knew that she’d have a good burn just like he warned her. She was far too pale to be in the sun that long but she seemed to enjoy challenging him at every turn.

“Will we be going ashore?” she asked simply while grabbing a soda from the minibar.

“No. Fuel only. It would be wiser for you to stay below until we leave. Send Oberyn up when you go down.”

“Why? No one knows us,” she said ignoring his command.

“Be as it may, we don’t know these people and I don’t need men gawking at you. We’re entering an area thick with thieves around the Sea of Dorne and they certainly don’t need to see a beautiful and practically naked woman on board,” Petyr remarked wanting to end the discussion.

“You did buy this for me, you know,” she smirked and Petyr couldn’t deny she had a pair of stones sometimes. “Thought I would just wear it around the pool for your amusement?”

“Do you want me to gag you and lock you in the cabin?” he quipped while giving her a glare. He didn’t need Oberyn overhearing them bickering.

“Well, I’m used to being locked up, so it’s not exactly a threat…” Petyr had enough. He stopped the boat abruptly and grabbed her by the arm. She dropped the soda and yelped as he pulled her near the edge of the boat.

“Enough,” he warned with a deathly quiet tone. “This is serious business and not some weekend cruise. I brought you to keep you safe. Do as I fucking tell you or I’ll throw you overboard right now.”

To her credit, Sansa didn’t cower and actually stood a little taller. If he wasn’t so damned pissed off, he’d be a bit proud of her. “You wouldn’t dare. You really like threatening me, don’t you? Well, do it if it makes you feel like a bigger man.” She stood her ground and Petyr smiled wickedly.

“At least you’re dressed for it.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth; he lifted her easily and tossed her into the water near the stern’s platform. There, he thought, she can cool that hot head of hers. Sansa bobbed up and took a harsh breath before splashing her arms frantically. At first, Petyr thought she was faking it. Surely, she could swim a girl of her age. She coughed out his name and sunk under a second time. He threw her a good distance and she had nothing to grab onto. His heart skipped a beat and he didn’t waste a second and lunged in. A few arm's lengths and he felt for her arm pulling her up to him. She gasped for air and clung to him so tightly that she almost drowned him as well. He held onto her waist and swam back to the platform.

“Here, grab on and I’ll help you up,” he sputtered as the briny taste filled his mouth. She rested her forearms on the platform and breathed heavy for a moment with her eyes closed and Petyr felt like a complete arse. She couldn’t swim and he almost drowned her. “Pull yourself up,” he instructed gently and pushed on her bum with one hand.

In one swift movement, he had her on the platform as he pulled himself from the water. His clothes were soaked and plastered to his body as he leaned against the back of the boat watching her. She coughed a few more times and started to breathe easier. Petyr jutted the back of his head against the boat in frustration and relief just as Oberyn came out.

“Enjoy your swim?” he japed and Petyr scowled at him.

Sansa slowly stood and brushed past Oberyn heading for the lower deck without a word. The dark-haired man watched her leave and turned to sit on the step next to Petyr.

“A little friendly advice. Try not to drown a woman when attempting to woo her.”


	27. Night Watch

 

Sansa stayed below the entire time they were docked and re-fueling the boat. Petyr had enough to get to there without stopping in Tarth but you never knew what you were getting into when travelling to Dorne. It was always better to be prepared and a full tank was a must.

Later they anchored at the southern tip of the island where the current was gentle. After dinner, he and Oberyn planned to take shifts so the other could sleep for a few hours. It was well into the evening as Petyr was cooking and he would occasionally glance to the small stateroom door that he and Sansa would share tonight. She hadn’t emerged in hours and Oberyn checked on her once only to tell Petyr she was sleeping.

“Petyr, I insist. You must stay the evening. Ellaria hasn’t seen you in ages. You have to dine at my favourite place. The cuisine is unlike any other…” Oberyn tried to convince him as he sipped his wine casually. They both turned their heads to the sound of the door opening and Sansa emerged with a faint smile.

“Ah, my darling girl. Come sit with me. I don’t try to drown women I fancy,” he teased and Petyr turned back to them.

He heard Oberyn pour her a glass of wine and refrained from watching them. He wasn’t jealous of Martell, not in the least, and knew Sansa wasn’t remotely interested in him but something made his stomach clench just a tiny bit being excluded from the conversation. She was at ease with Oberyn and wanted nothing to do with Petyr. He was finishing sautéing the mushrooms and artichokes when he finally heard his name.

“Petyr, you must let me have a bottle of this wine. I normally don’t care for sauvignon blanc but this is excellent,” Oberyn praised.

“It’s a Bordeaux.”

“Ugh, I don’t care. It’s a fucking white,” he laughed and Petyr knew he needed to lighten up. He was far too tense and if they were already in Dorne, Petyr thought he would have gotten drunk tonight. “Alayne, please enlighten me on how you deal with this somber bastard every day.”

Petyr set down two plates in front of his guests and turned back to the counter for his own.

He heard her laugh quietly, “A jagged pill I take with lots of alcohol.” He couldn’t help smiling before turning around again. He sat next to Sansa and felt her tense ever so slightly but he didn’t let it show that it bothered him.

Oberyn laughed heartily, “Oh yes, that’s one good thing about him. He buys the best.”

“I refuse to drink and eat shite. If you can afford the best, then buy it,” he chuckled. He didn’t mind Oberyn taking the piss on him, he deserved a bit of ribbing after today’s events.

Oberyn took a bite and softly grunted in praise and turned to Sansa, “He has money, taste, can cook, not as handsome as me but for the most part an entertaining bloke. He should have been married long before. But now he’s going to turn into a bitter old man with all his riches.” Sansa’s eyes widened in shock and chanced a look at Petyr.

“This coming from a man that is married with  _eight_  children, yet he is fucking anything that walks,” Petyr retorted with raised eyebrows as he took a drink.

“Still think that Ellaria doesn’t have fun when I’m not around? You should have seen the girl she was shagging a few weeks ago,” Oberyn laughed and Petyr could tell Sansa was a little uneasy but kept a quiet smile on her face. "Oh God, there was this boy, he couldn't have been more than twenty-five and he was just delicious sharing with her one night..."

“What is the point of marriage if it is going to be open to fucking whomever you want? And don’t tell me it’s for the sake of the children. Four of those aren’t even Ellaria’s,” Petyr threw back at him and grinned.

“Respect and love, my friend. Life is too short and we should experience all the pleasure we can before we die,” Oberyn smiled and patted Sansa’s knee and leaned into her, “If he had any sense, he should spoil you rotten until you forgive him and marry him.”

Sansa blushed bright red and Petyr felt bad for her. Oberyn didn’t have a filter and said whatever the fuck came to his mind. “Leave her be, Martell. You’re embarrassing her.”

“Seriously, Petyr. Look at her. Not only is she beautiful and intelligent, but I’ve never seen any woman stand up to you before. That’s when you know you have someone special. When you want to kill someone for calling you out on your own bullshite and then immediately save them because you realize you're an arsehole.” Oberyn sat back and grinned madly and Petyr wanted to punch that face repeatedly.

Oberyn filled his glass again and then Sansa’s. “He needs a good woman to pull that stick out of his arse every now and then, Alayne. Just get him drunk, he’s more tolerable when he isn’t sober,” he teased her.

“This is why I’m the serious business partner in our little enterprise,” Petyr japed letting the wine kick in.

“Yes, I agree. You’re serious enough for both of us. That’s why I like your stubborn arse. You make me very rich and occasionally you are enjoyable to be around. I’ve never met a man with more wit to match my own,” Oberyn smiled and downed his wine.

Petyr leaned back and sighed. It had been a long day and he would have preferred to sleep but Martell was ready to drink all night. “It’s late and I’ll stay up first or you’re liable to drink everything I have and pass out,” Petyr said as he stood up.

“I’ll give you that, wake me up when you start going mad,” Oberyn smirked and stood up stretching. He headed towards the main stateroom and barked back at them. “It’s not like you’re going to make use of this queen size bed anyway. Goodnight, Alayne, don’t let him bore you to sleep.”

“Goodnight,” she smiled weakly as Oberyn closed the door.

“You should get some sleep, sweetling,” he said as he put the dishes in the sink. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sansa walk to the other room and open the door.

“Petyr?”

He turned and she was looking at him in an odd way as if she were trying to think of what to say. She had been very quiet this entire trip and Petyr tried to read her mind but came up short.

“Yes?”

They were silent staring at each other with so much and nothing to say. He wanted to tell her he was sorry about yesterday and this afternoon but he couldn’t will his voice to say it. She was a good girl and each passing day, that girl was dying before his eyes. He didn’t know why he cared. He hated those feelings and it was making him lash out at her. Losing control was something he didn’t do. There was a sadness in her eyes as she stood there. She wasn’t angry anymore even though she had every right to be. Petyr wasn’t sure what was happening between them and it seemed neither did she.

“Nothing.”

She walked into the room and closed the door. Petyr grabbed a bottle of whiskey and climbed up to the flybridge and sat at the lounge instead of the cockpit. It was a beautiful night with a soft breeze and Petyr watched the light of the moon dance on the water. It was too quiet so he turned on the stereo letting the soothing jazz relax him. He really shouldn’t be drinking, Petyr thought considering he was sitting on millions of dollars stowed on the boat. If anyone had half a brain, they’d raid the boat and kill them all. Sailing through the night would raise more suspicions than a boat anchored but it didn't put him at ease. These trips were always dangerous no matter how many time he and Oberyn did it.

A few hours slowly passed and it surprised Petyr greatly when Sansa emerged from below. She didn’t say a word as she sat down next to him and rested against his shoulder. They were silent as the music played softly easing into each other’s company.

“You never learned to swim?” Petyr finally asked her.

Several moments passed and then she spoke staring at the scenery, “Yes, just barely, but I have a fear of deep water. I freeze up. I’m okay in a pool or if I can see the bottom. I don’t know what it is with deep water.” She tilted her head to look at him, “Would it have made any difference had I told you before you threw me in?”

Petyr knew he should apologize but he didn’t say a word to her. Apologizing meant admitting defeat in some way with her and he wasn’t about to do it even though he knew he was wrong. There was something about her that sparked raw emotion from him that he couldn’t fully control. Petyr had never not been in control and he was worried she was becoming more and more a distraction.

“Do you want me to go?” Her voice cut through his thoughts and he swallowed his drink in one gulp.

“You can do as you please. If you wish to stay up, then stay up,” he answered nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I asked. Why did you bring me with you if you’re only going to ignore me the whole time?” She hadn’t moved from her spot next to him.

“Leaving you behind alone would have been idiocy. Not to mention I wouldn’t be able to focus on my plans when I’m worrying about you.”

 _Fuck!_  The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He never should have started drinking tonight. Petyr mentally berated himself and didn’t dare look at her.

“Do you regret helping me?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes and no. Don’t ask for an explanation because I don’t have one to give you.” Petyr didn’t want to have this conversation with her. If everything went according to plan tomorrow, none of this would matter anyhow.

“Petyr, do you like me?”

Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her. The question shocked him and he set down the empty glass. It wasn’t rhetorical by the tone of her voice. It was strange to think that she actually wanted his attention, approval or even a confirmation that he enjoyed her company beyond the game they were playing.

“Why does it matter what I think? I don’t see you ever having a problem finding friends and those that like you for the woman you are,” he offered sincerely.

“It matters. I just…” she muttered and didn’t continue for a moment. “What is this between us?”

There. It was out in the open now and Petyr couldn’t deny this strange intimacy they had. It was perfect chemistry and yet it was wrong on so many levels. He was too old for a girl like her, he thought. She was experiencing more of a Stockholm Syndrome than anything else, he told himself. He gave her opportunities to leave and didn’t force captivity on her but whatever they were feeling wasn’t real. It was two people thrown together from traumatic circumstance and they were only acting on the basest of impulses.

Petyr knew when watching her interaction with the young blonde that he was the kind of man she would be interested in. Sansa would not have chosen Petyr if she hadn’t been chained to him because of fate. He was not the kind of man she would have actively sought after. She was starving for a human connection and the only person she found was him. It wasn’t because she cared. She was only surviving and Petyr was her best option right now. She latched onto him because he was promising safety and revenge.

The bigger problem was that Petyr was growing fonder of this girl that clung hopefully to him. Yes, she was a pawn in his game but each day he not only desired her more and more but also enjoyed her company. That was the drawback, he did like her and it was bad for business. He knew that if she truly wanted him in return, he would alter his plans to keep her with him. This girl was an addictive drug that he couldn’t get enough of. Fucking her the other day only made the addiction that much stronger. And like any drug, he needed to quit.

“This? This needs to be business and nothing more. I don’t want you to get the impression that it is anything more than that.”

She didn’t look at him and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her but the truth was harsh and she needed to hear it. This relationship was nothing but trouble. Petyr didn’t need the complications and Sansa would never be happy with a man like him. He could never be the kind of man she really needed.

Sansa leaned away from him and finally their eyes met in the dim light. She studied him looking for something different than what his voice told her. Petyr squeezed her upper arm in reassurance and she winced.

It wasn’t her injured shoulder he noticed. When he drew the material down, Petyr saw she had quite the sunburn. When was she ever going to listen to him?

“I said you would burn,” he scolded her like a child and sighed, “Come on. I have something.” She followed him below deck and into their shared stateroom. Petyr pulled out one of his bags and sifted through it until finding what he was looking for. “Lay down and take off your shirt.” Sansa didn’t argue with him and did as he commanded lying down on her stomach. The single berth didn’t allow for much room as he spread the gel over her burned skin.

“It smells odd, what is it?”

“Calendula. I find it’s better than aloe. You get used to the scent. It’s made from German marigolds and works surprisingly well,” he said as he gently applied the balm.

Petyr noticed the reddened skin on her back of her legs and shook his head at her defiance. Rather than heed his warning, she got a good burn to spite him. He applied the gel in long strokes and couldn’t help but love the feel of her skin. Such beautiful long limbs painted in porcelain but marred by the sun. The application of the balm became secondary as his hands caressed the delicate skin. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t make a sound. Petyr half wondered if she fell asleep. Fingers skimmed the inside of her shorts brushing her inner thigh. A light gasp escaped her lips and Petyr felt desire course through him.

_No. Not here. Not now._

Plans were already set in motion and Petyr couldn’t let this happen again. He pulled his hand away just as a knock sounded on the door. It was Oberyn ready to take his watch. Petyr opened the door and amusement was written all over the Dornish man’s face at the sight before him.

“You Northerners can’t tan to save your life,” he japed quietly after Petyr brought his finger to his lips signaling him to lower his voice. “You’re supposed to be on watch, not playing with the girl.”

Petyr knew Oberyn wasn’t serious but he was in no mood to play his games right now. “Don’t drink and fall asleep, for God’s sake. Wake me in a few hours. I want an early start.”

“Ah, my friend, I can hold my drink better than you. Plus, this is my money on board. I don’t want to lose it to pirates on the high seas,” he winked.

“It will be your money when you load the merchandise. Until then, this is  _my_  money,” Petyr smirked.

“So,  _you_  are now the Syndicate, are you Petyr?” he smiled knowingly.

Petyr smiled wistfully and closed the door. He lay down on the soft mattress and only then did he realize how exhausted he was. He glanced over at Sansa seeing her eyes closed and her breathing steady. She hadn’t moved and was still lying on her stomach completely bare from the waist up. The burn she had wasn’t so terrible and he laid a soft throw over her before slumping into the berth. He watched her until his eyes grew heavier, finally closing and he fell into a deep sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Petyr felt something pressed against his throat and opened his eyes. Sansa was holding a knife against his skin and he felt the blade make a small cut. Before he could speak, the sharp blade sliced across his throat and his warm blood ran down his chest in pools.

“You before me,” she whispered.


	28. A Little Death

 

Petyr jolted awake and felt his throat. He took a deep breath and turned his head to the side. She was still asleep clutching the blanket to her chest. Petyr laid his head down and sighed. He never had nightmares especially not like that. Petyr wasn’t afraid of anyone and certainly not this young girl. He had to wonder why his subconscious was fearful. Sansa was strong even underneath that quiet exterior. Oberyn had her pegged. No one had really stood up to Petyr before and definitely not a woman. Petyr was beginning to wonder if he was pushing her too far that she could eventually snap.

He rubbed his face rough with stubble and needed to re-think how he was handling her. Hell, he normally didn’t have this problem but with Sansa, he was beginning to care about how she felt. Those emerging feelings contradicted the way he had always handled problems. Petyr didn’t care about anyone and her certainly didn’t want to care about this girl. Unlike others he dealt with, he was sleeping with or spending most of his time with them as he did with Sansa. It was becoming harder to read her and it started to worry him. For all he knew, she could be biding her time and waiting for when she no longer needed him. She very well could take him out before he decided on what he was going to do with her.

He looked at his watch and it had been only four hours since Oberyn took his shift. The hint of light from the portholes told him it was early dawn. Petyr ran his hand through his hair and sat up. It was already too warm this morning and he was sweaty. He needed a shower but he looked towards the sleeping girl and decided to use the bath in the main stateroom instead.

He was buttoning his shirt as he climbed up to the flybridge and saw Oberyn drinking coffee.

“Good morning, it’s going to be a gorgeous day,” Oberyn smiled. It was impossible for the man to ever be in a bad mood, Petyr thought with a laugh. The man looked behind Petyr expecting to see Sansa and grinned madly. “Exhausted her, did you?”

Petyr rolled his eyes and poured himself a cup. The sooner they reached Dorne, the better. He liked Oberyn, but stuck with him in closer quarters was becoming too much. Maybe he was getting too stuffy and old for his own good that even congenial company was racking his nerves.

“I love the sea, Petyr. Smell that salty air. There’s nothing like it. I know I’m almost home because the air is fresh and doesn’t smell like shit and pollution. I don’t know how you stand it, old man. If it weren’t for our enterprise, I’d say you’d have to move down here. Bring that lovely woman you have and relax in paradise. Surely, you’re rich enough by now. If you stay around those backstabbing bastards long enough, you’ll end up just like them.” Oberyn talked with his eyes closed and resting his head back on the lounge.

“If I weren’t in Kings Landing, neither of us would be filthy rich,” Petyr pointed out the obvious.

“You seriously can’t tell me you want to be the head of that shithole? They killed Baratheon, Stark, Bolton,” Oberyn ticked each one off on his fingers, “and I’m betting either the Lannister boy, his mother or Arryn is next. Those bastards can’t be trusted.”

“Since when have I trusted anyone?” Petyr laughed.

“Oh? You only use me for my devilishly good looks and sparkling personality, do you?” Oberyn barked in laughter. A somber look came over his face and Petyr could see the man thinking.

“Heavy lies the crown, Petyr. You run the Syndicate as it is. Why put yourself in danger by heading it? Let someone else be the target for power struggles. Your position is quite perfect. You secretly run the operation already and they’re not out to kill you.” Oberyn smiled, “And I know you, I bet you’ve skimmed off quite a bit from the top. You’re brilliant with numbers.”

Petyr shrugged and wasn’t about to delve into this conversation. The truth was, he was tired of being owned by them. He may be the one that controlled the finances and kept the business rolling in money, but he was sick of being at their beck and call. Petyr had enough information to put half in prison and the others twelve feet under. It was now just a matter of when he decided to burn it all down.

“There’s always someone else, my friend. Someone ready to shoot you in the back when you least expect it,” Oberyn finished serenely.

Petyr tensed and an old pain ached in the back of his shoulder. He knew all too well about trust and betrayal. After Cat, Petyr promised himself, never again. He would not go down that road. As much as he genuinely liked Oberyn and had a certain level of trust in him, Petyr still kept his distance with a wary eye. Sansa was becoming a different problem entirely. He more than enjoyed her company and it wasn’t just the sex. She sparred with him and at times gave it back as good as she got. She continually surprised him. There were times he forgot how young she was. She tended to bounce back after every bad thing that happened to her. Petyr tried to convince himself he was making her stronger in the way that he treated her, but he was finding he wanted to protect her more and more from this harsh world.

That morning, she belonged to him completely as he made her moan and cry out his name. Had he been tender with romantic words, Petyr was certain she would have not given that boy the time of day. Petyr had everything to give her and she could easily be the woman he ultimately wanted if he would only open up and let her in. But that road was far too treacherous for both of them. No, the path his feet were on would only lead to one end for her.

A delicious smell wafted up from below and the woman in question walked up the steps with a sweet smile on her face. Her wet hair was pulled back and she wore a light tank top and shorts. “Are you lads hungry yet? I already set the table down here but I can bring breakfast up if you prefer.”

Petyr and Oberyn looked at each other curiously. Well, they were going to find out if she could cook very soon. “No, no my dear. We’ll come down. You’ve already gone through the trouble,” Oberyn smiled at her.

Both men followed her down finding a nicely set table for three. Fresh coffee, juice and buttered toast were already ready. “I don’t know how you take your eggs but the sausage is almost done,” Sansa told them as she returned to the small stove.

“Fried is fine, Alayne, thank you,” Oberyn said sitting down and pouring a new cup of coffee.

“Poached,” Petyr grinned wondering if she knew how.

“Hmm, never made poached before.” She waited for him to say or do something but Petyr watched her think it through. “Are you going to sit there or show me? If not, you’re getting scrambled.”

Oberyn howled at her tenacity in throwing Petyr’s shite back at him. Petyr came over and moved in behind her.

“Here. Fill the skillet with a bit of water and bring it to a boil. Add a dash of white vinegar.” He pressed himself behind and guided her hands with his chin almost resting on her shoulder. God, she smelled good and her hair was slightly damp from the shower. “Now carefully crack each egg and time it. Just a minute or so for a soft yolk,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll teach you how to make a good hollandaise another time.”

“Oh, I made some. It’s in the blender and should still be hot by the time the eggs are done. You’re in my way and I don’t want to burn myself.”

Petyr blinked in surprise and took a seat while Oberyn laughed heartily.

“Oh, you  _have_  to keep her, Petyr. This girl has the biggest stones I’ve ever seen to make your arse sit down.”

“I’m morbidly curious about blender hollandaise, I must say,” Petyr smirked.

“I hate whisking. Makes my wrist hurt. This way is faster,” she pointed out with her back to both men.

“Faster doesn’t mean better,” Petyr teased.

“Oh, sorry Master Chef. I didn’t realize I was being graded. If you don’t like it, don’t eat it,” she tossed back at him not missing a beat.

Petyr smiled widely and loved it when she was snarky like this. Fuck, he could fall hard for her if he didn’t know any better. Moments later, she served the eggs and sausage and retrieved her blender hollandaise. Oberyn lifted his plate and thanked her graciously.

She eyed Petyr suspiciously and asked, “Are you going to at least try it or be a snobby purist?”

Oberyn snorted loudly into his coffee and watched them with glee. Petyr lifted his plate and his eyes never left hers as she drizzled the sauce over the eggs. She plated her own breakfast and sat down and forked her eggs and toast watching Petyr curiously.

If she was going to poison him, she was truly fucked. Petyr highly doubted she knew how to run a small motorboat and much less a yacht in the middle of the sea. He eyed her with a smile and lifted the loaded fork to his mouth. Jesus Christ, it was not just good it was delicious. Perfect creamy texture and he detected a hint of tarragon. A herb most people wouldn’t think to use. Petyr glanced at Oberyn and obviously the man was just as pleased.

“Fuck me, this is good. But showing  _him_  up was the best thing I’ve seen in some time. Bravo, Alayne,” Oberyn smirked as he ate.

Petyr looked back to Sansa and she had a spark in her eyes and a knowing smile as she cut into her food. She was waiting for him to fold and compliment her for the sauce she knew damn well was delicious. He underestimated her once again and Petyr couldn’t help the grin on his face.

“Blender, huh?” Petyr forked another generous piece into his mouth and toyed with her.

Oberyn laughed, “I must apologize for my friend and his lack of manners, my dear. He’s been under a rock for so long, he’s forgotten how to compliment a lady for cooking two old men a wonderful breakfast.”

“Speak for yourself, Martell.” Petyr japed sipping his coffee.

“Well, if I had a beautiful and sweet creature such as this, I sure as hell would be complimenting her every moment of every day,” Oberyn winked at her.

“And how is Ellaria?” Petyr asked changing the direction of the conversation.

“More beautiful than ever. She expects you for dinner tonight, you know,” Oberyn grinned as he leaned back into the cushion.

“You’ll have to give her my deepest regret, but I’m returning back to Kings Landing after the exchange.”

“She’ll be greatly disappointed and you know I don’t want my wife unhappy. If you don’t stay and bring this lovely lady with you, I will have to break our bargain,” Oberyn countered and Petyr groaned.

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“I’m changing it. Dinner tonight or it’s off,” the man smirked.

“You’d break a multi-million dollar deal over a dinner date?” he asked sarcastically knowing Oberyn would do it just to piss him off. Oberyn just smiled and Petyr hated him right now. God damnit, he had it all planned out perfectly and Martell was going to fuck it up just because he could.

Martell didn’t even wait for the answer. “Good that’s settled.” He turned to Alayne. “I know the best place in town, right on the beach in fact. You’ll love the cuisine, my dear. Better than anything you’ll find up North. We’ll dine under the stars, dance and make this boring bastard have a good time even if it kills him.”

“We’re not on holiday, Oberyn. I have to get back. I have work to do,” Petyr retorted even though he knew it didn’t matter now.

“Fuck it. Your man can handle one more day on his own. I keep telling you Petyr, you’re going to die young if you don’t unwind a bit.”

Petyr knew he wasn’t going to win this argument and dropped it. It was only one more day. He would still have enough time to get back and ready the club for Cersei’s masquerade for her fucking brat.

The three finished breakfast and Sansa was cleaning up when Oberyn returned upstairs. Petyr cleared the table and brought everything to the sink. He knew he should follow Oberyn and get a move on to Dorne but Petyr couldn’t stop himself. He pressed up behind her softly, nuzzled her neck and whispered, “I loved every bite.” He gave a dry peck to her skin and left her speechless as he returned up the steps.

Before he knew it, the coast of Dorne was in sight and Petyr sighed in relief. It was almost over. The journey had been blessed with good weather and no interference of any kind. Now, all he had to do was play the gracious guest for several hours, sleep and be on his way in the morning.

Sansa had spent most of the morning below deck and Petyr was slightly curious at what demanded her attention. When he checked on her, she was watching the telly and smiled at him. She told him it was too hot outside and she just wanted to relax. He looked around briefly and a thought came to mind. He walked to a small cupboard located under the table and banquette. He pulled out a briefcase and set it on the table in front of her.

Petyr opened it knowing she was watching him intently letting her see the combination in full. Inside were five hundred grand in cash and a few passports. “Here, take this.” He handed her the new passport and she flipped through it with curiosity. “And I think a few thousand ought to be enough,” he said as he counted out a few notes handing them to her.

“ _Alayne Stone_. I don’t understand.”

“When we dock, Martell and I have some business to attend to. There are plenty of shops and attractions on the beach nearby. Make yourself scarce for a few hours but don’t go too far,” he told her. A hint of fear flashed in her eyes and Petyr added, “Don’t worry. No one here knows you and you’ll be safe. It’s a very upscale area and Oberyn owns all of it. You’ll be fine. You could easily disappear here if you wanted to. Here, Alayne is no one but a pretty and wealthy girl.”

Petyr played it off lightly but he could see the wheels turning in her head and thought she needed to work on that poker face. He replaced the briefcase to the cupboard making sure she saw everything he was doing. If she decided to run, he was giving her the means to do so. She would have a better chance of disappearing here than up North. He had instilled enough fear in her the past few days, Petyr wouldn’t be surprised at all to find that she bailed. At least he could make sure she had an identity and money. Petyr returned to the flybridge and let Oberyn guide him to their destination.

In no time, they pulled into the small marina with only a few other expensive yachts and sailboats moored nearby. Oberyn pointed out that he owned every boat with pride and Petyr was only glad that they would have privacy. He docked closely to the pier as Oberyn anchored the boat tightly. The engine was shut off when Sansa climbed up to the deck looking lovely. She wore the blue halter and a print skirt he bought knowing it would look great on her figure. Her hair was swept up and stylish. With sandals and sunglasses, she looked like a movie star on holiday. Petyr smiled to himself but kept his distance and instead let Oberyn help her off the yacht.

It was almost midday and the weather was perfect, sunny with a hint of a cool breeze. Oberyn was right; the air was fresh and clean compared to Kings Landing. Petyr inhaled deeply and took in his surroundings. The town was bustling but not like the manic tempo of a big city. He followed Sansa and Oberyn as he told her all about his little oasis. Oberyn was a very animated talker and Petyr smiled at his grand gestures with his hands not even hearing the conversation but understanding everything that was going on. Vendors were selling their wares in the streets paved with cobblestones lined with boardwalks. One would think it was a rather quaint beach town if it weren’t for the Ferraris and other sports cars buzzing around. This was a little beach town for the extremely wealthy only.

Sansa’s eyes had popped when he had given her a few thousand in spending cash and he bet she understood now. Everything here had quite the price tag not that it bothered Petyr at all. He had plenty of money and watching her stroll with Martell and taking in the ethnicity of this southern haven; he would happily spend it all on her.

Petyr caught up to them at a small café. He had to admit that Sansa and Oberyn looked good together. They looked every bit a happy couple on holiday and Petyr tried to suppress a twinge of jealousy. Oberyn was just a couple years younger, as they were both too old for her. He watched her smile and chatter and she seemed genuinely happy. Yes, this is how she should be, he thought. She didn’t belong in Kings Landing no matter if she were Sansa Stark or Alayne Stone or anyone else. That place was going to eat her alive.

Her hand slipping into his brought Petyr out of his cogitation. She smiled for him and he could see how bright her eyes were behind those sunglasses. She wasn’t just genuinely happy this afternoon but she was happy being here with him. She didn’t want Oberyn. Her hand was so small in his and he looked down at the joining. His face must have told her something else for she pulled away gently and the smile died.

“Petyr, Oberyn said there is a festival today. Festival of the Sun. Could we go? Just for an hour?”

There was so much hope in her eyes, he couldn’t say no. What was he going to tell her? Go alone? No, it would have been like denying a child a sweet. Sansa had been through so much that Petyr couldn’t deny her anything today. Plus, he saw the look on Oberyn’s face and wasn’t about to let him get the bigger end of the stick. They were going to be here for the rest of the day anyway, might as well make the best of it, he told himself. After being crammed on a boat for thirty hours, it felt good to stretch his legs. It was a beautiful day after all, and why not splurge a bit?

Petyr held out his elbow, telling Sansa to link her arm with his. The smile on her face was everything and it was all for him. They strolled down the street and Petyr could see where the main part of the fair was set up on the beach. It felt like a different world down here compared to the North and Petyr could see why Oberyn preferred it. Martell’s money was all over the place down here and it probably wouldn’t be this little paradise without it. Looking at Sansa and how her eyes lit up, Petyr could almost just sell everything and move down here with her.

_Almost_

Her hand was in his again and she was practically dragging him along. The sand was hot in his sandals and Petyr was grateful he opted for light fabric and colours today. It was a bit hotter on the beach and could barely feel that breeze through his khaki pants and white tshirt. There was live music playing on the boardwalk and Sansa pointed to the bellydancers wearing silk saris and veils. Everything that was old and new about Dorne was present in the fair. Oberyn had Sansa tastes different traditional foods and drinks and she was thrilled with everything around her. She was a little girl in a candy shop that was allowed to do whatever she wanted.

She laughed and smiled and tugged his arm when something else caught her eye. It was as if the horrors of the past few weeks had never happened. Somewhere her family was alive and well and she was on a spring break from school having the time of her life. Petyr felt he should be happy and enjoying himself but his heart was heavy knowing this bliss would be short-lived.

_Let her enjoy herself. She’s happy right now. Don’t ruin it._

Petyr told himself many times to smile but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. When he was young, he would have been beside himself with joy at spending a day such as this with Cat. The years had hardened him and as much as he wanted to act like a normal man doing normal things with a lovely woman, his brain just wouldn’t let him. Petyr wished he didn’t know what was going to happen. In Sansa’s case, ignorance was bliss. It would be highly selfish of him to take enjoyment in her knowing what was coming in the morning. But every time she touched him, smiled and showed him affection, it was slowly breaking him down. Somehow she had forgiven him for all the wretched things he had said and done and Petyr couldn’t understand why.

She was looking at local jewelry an old man and woman were making that had her complete attention. Petyr saw there was a particular necklace that caught her eye and fingered it tenderly. The dark blue stone was roughly cut but still brilliant against the silver setting.

“Ah, this stone is very special. It is given by a friend or loved one to protect the one they love. You do not buy it for yourself or you render it powerless,” Oberyn explained to Sansa. She let go of the necklace and instead chose a bracelet with similar colours and paid the old man without haggling. As she walked towards a woman with a multitude of silk scarves, she glanced back at the necklace.

Petyr waited until she was a bit further into the tent and purchased the necklace. He tucked it away in his pocket with a smile. He didn’t know why he bought it, but feeling that stone in his pocket lightened his heart a little.

He had never shopped with a woman before and never realized how much they could buy if given the funds. There were so many little things and trinkets that caught her eye and with each item she touched, Petyr wanted to get it for her. Part of him felt like he was buying her forgiveness but he didn’t care anymore.

There were some tents with games for the children but one stood out as out of place. It looked like an old-fashioned gun range one would see in a western movie.

“Martell, how are your John Wayne skills?” Petyr teased, “Not very Dornish, is it?”

“My nephew, Trystane, saw one of these once and wanted one when he went through a cowboy phase. I bought it years ago for the children and it’s been a staple every year since,” Oberyn laughed it off.

“I’m feeling rather childish at the moment, care to make a friendly wager?” Petyr challenged and Sansa looked between the two men with interest.

“You could have Ellaria if you just asked, Petyr.” Oberyn chuckled as he walked up to the counter and played with the gun.

“Whoever hits the most targets…”

“No, no, no… you are not getting out of dinner tonight. If you really want to play, we’ll let the lady decide the wager.” Oberyn objected and turned to Sansa. “What do you say, Alayne? You think this overpaid accountant can best me?”

Sansa laughed and hid her smile. “I don’t know.” She blushed madly and refused to look at Petyr. “The loser buys dinner and…”

“And the winner gets to dance with you all night? I accept,” Oberyn finished for her and began shooting targets immediately with precision. He hit all six targets and Petyr cursed under his breath. The man gave Oberyn a prize and he handed it to Sansa with a low bow.

“So nice of you to let the lady decide, Martell,” Petyr chided and picked up his gun. He took his aim and began firing at the moving tin targets hitting every one until the gun seized on the last round. “Fuck, this doesn’t count, it’s faulty.”

“No, I win. You’re buying dinner and I get this lovely lady for a night,” Oberyn laughed loudly and suddenly saw a young man coming towards them and turned to him ignoring Petyr and Sansa completely.

“The cheat,” Petyr scoffed as he inspected the firing pin on the six-shooter.

“I didn’t get to finish what I said about the loser… he gets a kiss,” and before Petyr could react, Sansa leaned up and kissed him softly. She pulled back and smiled sweetly and Petyr was speechless for a moment. She picked up a different gun from the counter and inspected it. “Show me?”

Petyr smiled and pressed himself behind her bringing her right arm up as his cheek touched hers. “Aim,” he whispered as she closed one eye and followed a target and squeezed the trigger and missed. “Open both of your eyes this time and aim again.”

She tried again and missed but not by far. “Now time the movement from the time you squeeze the trigger to when it hits the target when you’re aiming at something that moves.” His hand rested on her stomach. “Steady your hand, hold your breath and shoot.” Sansa fired three more times and hit a target on the last shot. Petyr kissed the side of her head and grinned, “Well done.”

Just then Oberyn walked over with a handsome, young man and introduced him, “This is Trystane, my nephew.” He was Sansa’s age and looked like a younger version of his uncle. “Petyr, I thought Trystane could be Alayne’s guide for the rest of the afternoon while we finish some business.”

It was the one thing Petyr originally wanted to do and leave. Yet, in this moment, he inwardly groaned at leaving her with yet another young and handsome boy. Again, it was not the plan. She was supposed to be on her own for a few hours.

“Yes, of course.” Petyr fished in his pocket for his billfold and gave her a few more notes while looking her straight in the eyes. “If you need anything, come back to the yacht, you know where everything is,” he whispered in her ear. Her eyes were wide and nervous and Petyr patted her side reassuringly.

Petyr had no fear that Oberyn would ever do a thing to her, but it was always your good mate that ended up stabbing you in the back when you least expected it. It was always better to be prepared and never let your guard down.

“We’ll meet for dinner in few hours,” Oberyn said as he started walking back the marina and Petyr gave her a quick wink only to follow him leaving her alone with a stranger.

The hours flew by quickly. Martell’s men unloaded the cash and stored the merchandise in holds meant for smuggling. Petyr had paid off enough people in power, he wasn’t nervous about being stopped upon his return to Kings Landing. Going back tomorrow would be a long trip on his own, but he did it before and could do it again.

It was a good thing they returned to the yacht when they did, before they knew it, night had come quickly. Petyr accompanied Oberyn to one of his apartments for about an hour and he wondered if Sansa had gone back to the yacht at all. He left Martell saying he wanted to freshen up for dinner and walked to the pier nearby. One light was left on in the lounge but other than that the boat looked empty.

Petyr boarded and went below deck and directly to the lower cupboard and saw the briefcase inside. He opened it and nothing had been touched and Petyr didn’t know if he was relieved or frustrated.

_Perhaps, she didn’t have any time alone to come back._

Which meant Sansa had stayed in the company of Martell’s nephew for several hours and he didn’t know how he felt about that. There was nothing to be done at the moment. If anything were amiss, Petyr would know at the restaurant. He showered and dressed casually as Oberyn advised. The place he was taking them to was outside and they would be sitting on cushions at a low table. It was best to dress cool and comfortable, he said.

Petyr donned a pair of loose-fitted linen trousers and a charcoal tee. He looked in the mirror and laughed. He looked like an advertisement for Banana Republic and shook his head. It wasn’t his kind of style but Petyr refused to die of heat in his usual silk and wool suits.

Oberyn had pointed out the place on their way back to the marina hours earlier and Petyr almost had a mind to get back in the yacht and leave while he could. But it meant he’d be leaving Sansa here with nothing and he couldn’t do it. Other than a few pubs and clubs, the main boulevard was empty and Petyr saw the place ahead. The music was similar to what his DJ played at the Mockingbird only days ago and Petyr didn’t mind it at all.

He walked in from the boardwalk and could see Oberyn at the far side facing the shore. There were several stone fire pits with low tables and just as Martell said, loads of cushions on the wood floor. Petyr looked around and didn’t see Sansa anywhere and his stomach knotted. He should have insisted she return to the yacht before dinner but didn’t want to seem over possessive or suspicious in front of his friend and business partner.

Ellaria strutted over and gave him a full kiss on the mouth wrapping her arms around his neck. Petyr had to admit that she and Oberyn were a perfect match. She was essentially a female version of him. She took his hand and guided him to where her husband and a few people lounged with drinks.

“Ah, Petyr! I took the liberty of starting a tab for you,” he grinned as he lifted his drink to his lips.

Ellaria pulled Petyr down to sit next to her and casually left her hand resting on his lap. “How long has it been? I was beginning to think you didn’t like us anymore, Petyr,” purred smoothly.

“My apologies, darling. I’ve been terribly busy up North. Please forgive me,” he smiled and pulled out his cigarette case.

“Only if you’ll properly introduce me to your new lady friend,” she drawled looking straight ahead.

Petyr’s eyes followed and spied Sansa from across the room and his heart skipped a beat. Beautiful wasn’t even the word to describe her. Her hair was wild in loose curls and she wore a top that barely covered her and a silk sarong draped around her hips. In this dim and colourful light, her sunburn only gave her skin a glow. Ellaria flicked her lighter and held it before him. He lowered his eyes finally and lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply.

“Wherever did you find such a lovely thing?” Ellaria asked dreamily leaning into Petyr’s shoulder. He knew she was attracted to women just as much as men and Petyr smiled.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets, love,” Petyr teased and kissed her cheek.

“Trystane is quite taken with her. She was all he could talk about,” Ellaria offered, watching him closely. “Is she free or have you already staked your claim?”

Petyr chuckled and didn’t answer her as he watched the boy follow Sansa to where they were seated. He stood up and took her hand and kissed her on her cheek. “You look stunning,” he breathed into her ear. Petyr moved near Oberyn and brought Sansa to sit with him. This boy had her for a few hours and Petyr would be damned if he was going to monopolize her tonight.

“Petyr, Alayne… what will you have? You must try some of our local drinks,” Oberyn asked as he signaled the waiter.

“Surprise us,” he smiled and brought Sansa’s fingers to his lips. He wouldn’t even look up at this boy to see his reaction. If he didn’t get the hint that she wasn’t available then Martell’s nephew was obtuse.

Like everything else, Petyr learned Oberyn owned this favourite place of his. The food was brought out and set upon the large table for everyone to taste. The alcohol flowed and the music hummed. Petyr relaxed back into the cushions and Sansa slightly curled into his side. Trystane sat across the table with his aunt and kept his eyes on the beautiful Alayne. It was an exquisite evening with just enough of a cool breeze from the sea to break the humidity. Petyr noted how bright the moon and stars were here in comparison to the smoggy North. Everything played upon his senses. The drinks, the scent of the hookahs and incense, the girl at his side… perhaps it was the place itself.

“Alayne, do you like girls?” Ellaria asked seductively smoking from her hookah. Oberyn chuckled and shrugged at Petyr’s raised eyebrows. All night, she had been trying to get Sansa to try the hookah, acid, and drinks with a psychedelic infusion but Sansa politely declined hoping not to sound rude to her hosts.

“Oh yes, of course,” she smiled and Petyr couldn’t help but laugh.

Oh, how innocent she still was and he loved it. Ellaria slowly made her way over her and finally Sansa realized what she had implied. Petyr felt her hand search for his and he decided to step in before she couldn’t fake it any longer. He brought his knees up and pulled Sansa between his legs shielding her from Ellaria’s seductress ways.

“You never like sharing your toys, do you?” Oberyn’s wife pouted.

“Ellaria, there are plenty of delicious girls here to put your lips to. I promised this lady dancing tonight,” Oberyn interrupted standing up and moving in front of Sansa holding out his hand.

Perfect timing, Petyr thought. He pulled Sansa up and guided her to what looked like the dance floor under the lanterns. Unlike the Mockingbird, Sansa danced with Oberyn with the ease of knowing him better and he could see she genuinely liked him. To his credit, he didn’t touch her inappropriately and they were only having fun to the lively music. Other men attempted to gain her attention only to be moved aside by Oberyn. Petyr smiled at that and sipped his drink until he saw that Trystane had quietly left the lounge and made his way towards his uncle and the new girl. Oberyn’s voice echoed in his head as Petyr watched the young man move in on his girl.

_You have an unbelievably beautiful and sexy woman at your beck and call._

The young man took her by the waist and started dancing with her and she smiled but lightly pushed him away.

_You see, she only has eyes for one man._

Oberyn pulled her back to him and Petyr caught her glancing at him a few times with a sweet smile.

_You’d be a fool to let a lovely creature like that out of your sight and I’ve never known you to be a fool. A woman that stunning who is willing to put up with you is a rare find indeed, my friend._

Petyr didn’t know if it was the mood or the alcohol but he found himself moving towards them in a dreamlike haze. She had her arm around Oberyn’s neck when Petyr moved in behind her and took her hips to move in time with his. She must have known it was him for instead of pushing away the unwanted attention she leaned back into him. She was pressed between both men and the fact that she didn’t seem to mind at all gave him a little thrill. The music was pulsing and he felt her hand pull his across her stomach as Petyr nuzzled into her soft hair.

He was done with denying how much he wanted her and turned Sansa around to face him. Oberyn didn’t need a hint and moved on to another woman leaving Alayne to the man she really wanted. Petyr held her to him and danced a little dirty with her like that day of the auditions. There was no one here that cared if he was seen enjoying being with her and he finally let go. God, how much he wanted to dance with her again and here there were, in a place ripe with sinful temptation. At first, he was playful and he truly smiled at her. Her eyes lit up as let she let him lead her. She laughed and smiled and Petyr was indeed enjoying himself. He wrapped her arm around his neck and moved her in time with him. He could feel her every soft curve molded into his body and held her closer.

The humidity changed and Petyr’s clothes stuck to his body. He could see a few clouds and wondered briefly if the weather was going to turn. His attention returned to where his hands held her. The thin silk of her sarong was plastered to her thighs as his fingers trailed along the outside and tracing her round bottom. The music had slowed down and was pure sex. He pulled back just enough to look at her face. He could drown in those blue eyes and be perfectly happy. Her lips were parted and lightly strained with red wine. They begged to be kissed and when he saw her gaze at his lips, he could no longer resist and leaned in tasting her tenderly. He pulled back just enough and looked in her eyes again asking permission. God, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out the necklace she fancied. Without a word, he brought the silver around her neck and fastened the small clasp. He didn’t need to say anything for they both knew what it meant. For the longest time, he gazed at her entranced for something had shifted between them. Her eyes were full of confused emotions as she returned his gaze. Petyr leaned down and kissed her deeply making her moan into his mouth. Her arms wound around his neck as he deepened the kiss and held her close. Just when he was debating taking her out of here, the first sprinkle of rain hit them. Now, he didn’t need an excuse as the skies opened up.

Wordlessly, he took her hand and walked out leaving the Martell’s to what would surely turn into an orgy elsewhere. Thankfully, it was a short walk back to the marina but they were going to get soaked by the time they got there. He laced his fingers through hers and smiled as they ran down the boardwalk to the pier. Sansa laughed and held onto him as they were both drenched. He helped her onto the yacht and neither of them spoke as they made their way below deck closing the door behind them.

Petyr felt like a boy again with her. They were laughing at each being completely soaked. Petyr stopped laughing and suddenly the mood changed. His eyes took her in from head to toe and she blushed. He closed the distance and stood before her as he caressed her cheek. She was so lovely and he wanted to remember everything tonight. He tilted her chin and brought his lips to her jaw making his way back to a pulse point below her ear. She sighed and he knew he didn’t need to ask her but he did anyway, “Do you want this?” Sansa ground into his hips telling him she wanted him just as much as he was dying to touch her.

Petyr pulled her body into him and feasted on her neck slowly. Her hand came up and fingers ran through his hair holding his mouth to her. After a few moments, he felt her hands find the edge of his shirt and slip underneath to the small of his back. He was growing hard fast and started backing her towards the main stateroom. They had complete privacy tonight and Petyr was going to make good use of this bed.

The door was already open and he guided her in kissing the entire way. Once inside she pulled away with a nervous smile. “I need to use the loo. I’ll be right back.” She walked to the other room and Petyr was confused as there was a bigger bathroom in this room. While he waited, he pulled down the bedcovers and kicked off his sandals. Petyr thought this would have given him time to re-think things but he didn’t care. He wanted her tonight and that’s all there was to it.

A closing of a door had him turn around to watch her walk towards him in bare feet. He was the luckiest son of a bitch to have such a gorgeous thing coming to him like this. Sansa stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She stared at him for a second before bringing her hands to unclasp her top. Petyr stopped her and pulled her hands down replacing them with his own.

One by one, he undid each clasp revealing her breasts to him. He pulled the material off her shoulders and let it fall down her arms. He gazed at her and instinctively she tried to cover herself when he pulled her arms back down. “I want to look at you,” he told her reverently.

His breathing had become heavy when he untied the knot at her hip. When the material fell to the floor, Petyr held his breath. She was completely bare and not because she wasn’t wearing knickers. He almost forgot that she was waxed and seeing her smooth between her legs made him ache with need.

Nervous hands pulled at his shirt bringing it up and Petyr raised his arms letting her pull it over his head. Those same hands rested on his shoulders and then drifted down with her eyes until touching the waist of his trousers. She looked back at his face and unbuttoned his confinement, letting a hand slink in and touch him.

He exhaled harshly and pulled her to him. Her breasts touched his chest as his hand trailed down her back. He kissed her softly letting her know this wasn’t going to be like their first time. He could feel her hands push the linen trousers over his narrow hips hooking his briefs with them. Gratefully, the material was loose enough that they fell to the floor adding to the collection of clothes there.

His hands grabbed her bum bringing her hips to meet his. She gasped and Petyr took advantage of her open mouth to dip his tongue to touch hers. His cock was rock hard and pressed against her smooth mound. Fuck, he had to taste her. Petyr had been dreaming about burying his face between her legs for weeks.

Petyr turned her around and gently lay her down on the bed scooting her up to the pillows. He leaned over her on his hands and knees and kissed her deeply. He didn’t dare let his cock touch her yet for fear that this would end too soon. No, he was going to take his time tonight. He kissed along her jaw and then down her neck to her collarbone. He took a nipple into his mouth and finally a loud moan escaped her lips. He lavished attention on each breast before moving down and dipping his tongue into her navel. Petyr looked down and almost came right there. He loved her curls from other times he touched her, but seeing her completely smooth had his mouth watering.

He spread her thighs further apart and he could feel the change in her breathing. She was entirely exposed to him with nowhere to hide. Petyr glanced up to see her watching his every move. With his tongue he gave her a long, seductive lick along her slit while his devious eyes never looked away from hers. He wanted to make her come with his mouth and lowered his head. There was something about the way she smelled and tasted that had him diving in. God, he couldn’t get enough as he feasted on the tasty flesh. She bucked and her thighs quivered as he ate away at her. She squirmed and he had to hold her thighs apart for she threatened to squeeze his head.

She was moaning incoherently and now he really wanted to break her. Petyr suckled on her nub and suddenly she fisted her hands in his hair thrusting his head into her. He didn’t even need to finger her, for she was going to come all over his face. The idea made him groan and the vibration made her buck against his mouth. He sucked harder and then dipped his tongue inside and went back to sucking her. He could feel her tense up and she was calling out to him. Hearing his name on her lips made him work harder and then he felt her juices flood his mouth. Oh fucking hell, it was glorious. He lapped her as he held her pussy hard against his mouth as she came.

Sansa was shaking when he nestled between her legs. He rocked against her letting her feel how hard she made him. She was so wet that he was coated in her juices as his hips danced with hers. Petyr leaned down and kissed her again. His tongue opened her mouth letting her taste herself on his lips. She didn’t pull back and in fact, kissed him harder. He pushed the tip of his cock inside and slid in with ease. She didn’t wince in pain at all as he eased it up filling her.

Slowly, he thrust himself in and out and Petyr closed his eyes at how tight she was around him. She was gasping with each gentle plunge and Petyr kissed her letting his tongue match the movement of his cock. She opened her legs wider to him and starting meeting his hips. She wanted it faster, but he wasn’t going to let her set the tempo. Petyr went back to kissing her neck and continued making love to her slowly. He wanted her to feel every inch of him inside her as he moved. Never in his life had he wanted a woman so much.

Only days ago he fucked her senseless and it was just sex. This, right now, was making love. He didn’t seduce her like before when it was all about bending her to his will. No, this was something different now. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He was worshipping her with his body and not taking her to sate his lust.

Petyr drove in deeper and she moaned his name. He loved hearing it and delved in again shifting the tempo a little. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him down to kiss her. He rotated his hips and pumped harder until she started thrusting back and it turned erotic. He heard her voice in his ear begging him, crying out for him and in-turn Petyr turned up the heat wanting to make her come.

He kissed her down to her neck and now had to focus on getting them to that pinnacle. She was pulsing around him and so wet that he needed to drive into her faster. Fuck, he could feel her clamp down on his cock and Petyr began to lose himself. He moaned her name and felt it build up. She felt so fucking good he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He heard her call his name over and over and that was it. He convulsed and shook and buried himself in her breathing into her neck.

Her body was still wrapped around him and held him to her as they came down. Her breathing hitched and he pulled his head up to look at her. Sansa had tears in her eyes and his heart ached. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head but the way her chest heaved, he knew she was crying. Never in all his years did a woman cry after giving her a great orgasm. Petyr wiped away her tears and kissed her softly. What had he done to this girl? He used her, deceived and seduced her, fucking threatened her and now she was crying after he sincerely made love to her. He had confused this poor woman to hell and back.

“Hey, ssshh, it’s okay,” he kissed her again. “Don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you cry.”

Tears pooled in her blue eyes that stared back at him. God damnit, he was falling for her and falling hard. This woman trusted him and was giving herself completely to him again and again. The only woman Petyr had ever wanted was Cat and she betrayed him and his love for her. Yet, under him lay her daughter, who was more beautiful in every way than the mother. She let him teach and mold her to his whims. She let him seduce her, and treat her terribly but yet, here she was letting him make love to her. It wasn’t healthy and Petyr was worried that she would be susceptible to letting someone abuse her only to show her a small amount of kindness and love. And that thought stung him deeply. What Petyr was doing to her was wrong. She would probably walk to her death with Joffrey if he told her to.

Petyr, because of Oberyn’s stubbornness, stole a day with Sansa where he felt like a normal man again. He wanted nothing more than to spoil her and get her whatever her heart desired. This place was intoxicating enough to pull a veil over reality. Here he could play the doting man to this beautiful woman. Here, he could make love to her every night without a care in the world but it wasn’t the truth. It was a daydream that was ending very soon. As she lay with him, his heart was aching at how he knew he was going to hurt her in the morning.

It had been so long since he felt anything like this for someone. Petyr was twice this girl’s age and yet she didn’t seem to care. He was not a good man and not good enough for her. She deserved so much better than a bitter, selfish and cruel man like him. He was giving her false hope. The truth hurt but he couldn’t deny the logic of it.

He gently pulled out of her knowing he had come inside her again. It was just more proof that he couldn’t think straight around her. Petyr lay on his back and felt her curl into his side entwining her leg with his. In no time at all, it would be morning and this night would only be a memory.

Petyr wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into him caressing her back. She tugged on the sheet to cover them even though it was humid and warm on the yacht. Whether he pushed her away now or in a few hours didn’t seem to make a difference. He was going to hurt her all the same and his selfish side won out. He would steal this time with her in bliss and deal with the aftermath later. His body and mind were exhausted when sleep finally took over and a faint echo in his brain said:

_Don’t wake up dead_

 

* * *

 

He was hard and something wet sucked the head of his cock. Petyr could feel his hips thrust up to the sensation of their own accord. Fingers wrapped around the base of his dick and pumped and a moan growled deep in his chest. He was vaguely aware of hair tickling his stomach when a moan vibrated around his aching cock making his eyes open. A head bobbed as his hand touched her and sifted his fingers in her hair. Her body curled back towards him and her hip was next to his shoulder.

Petyr’s head fell back to the pillow at the sight of her blowing him and his right hand drifted over her hip for something to touch as she gave him pleasure. Jesus Fucking Christ, she surprised him again and again. Never, would he have dreamed that she would even think of doing this to him. That hand caressed her hip and down her thigh working its way back up again. It slipped between her legs and found her wet making his cock twitch. She was turned on while giving him a blowjob and Petyr groaned. This girl was going to kill him and he would die a happy man.

She sucked him and a wicked idea came to mind. Petyr started dipping his fingers along her folds and it made her moan around his cock again. She was new to this but was learning. He smiled as he lifted one of her legs and pulled her hips over his chest. She stopped abruptly as her body froze in the new position on top of him.

“Don’t stop, baby. Suck it using your tongue,” he instructed. He kept his hands on her thighs when finally, she lowered her mouth on him again and his moaned loudly this time. He could smell her sex just inches from his face and waited for her to relax again. “Use your hand… yes, that’s it, baby, that’s it. Don’t stop…”

Petyr pulled her hips back and his mouth devoured her burying his face in her juices. She tried to pull up and he wrapped his strong arms around her hips keeping her in place as he worked his lips and tongue on her. His hips were thrusting at nothing and his cock needed attention. Petyr tore his mouth away for a moment, “Sansa, please.” He never begged but he needed her mouth back on him or Petyr felt he would certainly die.

He continued lapping her when that we heat returned and he moaned into her sweet sex. A slight saltiness lingered and he knew it was his seed he tasted on her but he didn’t care. She pumped him again and as good as it felt, it wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside her again. He lifted her hips pulling her body up and back where she let go of his cock. Petyr told her to turn around and straddle him and without question she did.

Her eyes were black with lust as she stared down at him. Her breasts were full and heaved with each breath she took. Petyr let his hand trail along her ribs to the tapered waist and finally to rest on her hips. His hard cock jutted along her bum and he gave a little thrust telling her what he wanted. He lifted her hips up and let her take him in her small hand guiding it to her center.

Petyr felt his crown sink in and his eyes rolled back. She sank lower and lower onto him until he was fully embedded inside her. She experimented for a couple of minutes trying to find a rhythm and Petyr was patient even though he was aching inside her. He lifted her hips and guided her as she slid up and down his hardness. Finally, she figured it out and braced her hands on his chest and started to really fuck him. He was rigid inside her and right when he thought she was going to pull away too far, she thrust down hard making him hiss in pleasure.

She rocked her hips forward and back and he moaned. Watching her was intense. She was focusing on where they were connected and how to get the friction she needed. She tried a new way of rocking her hips while thrusting against him that he almost passed out. Petyr opened his eyes and now hers were closed in concentration. Her breathing was labored as her tits bounced and the sight was pure ecstasy for any man.

“Oh yes, sweetling, fuck me. Fuck me, baby,” he growled. Petyr bent his knees and grasped her hips roughly as he started to thrust his hips up. There was nothing gentle about this as they fucked each other hard. His hand touched her where they were joined and he felt her throb around him. Petyr saw she was getting exhausted and knew she hadn’t come yet. He took control back by flipping her on her back and spreading her wide to him. He yanked her hips up and shoved himself back inside her hearing her cry out. This is what she really liked, Petyr grinned. She was a bad girl.

_His bad girl_

The thought made him wild with lust. He fucked her deep and hard while rubbing her little nub and watched her come undone. Her back was arched to keep her hips where he was holding her on his knees and all she could do was grab the bedsheets. She was begging him now and he gave her everything she wanted. Petyr felt his insides tighten and knew he was going to come. “Oh fuck yes…” He rubbed her harder and hammered into her with all he had left. Petyr yanked her body up as they came together. Her arms were around his neck holding on for dear life as he held her to him.

Petyr’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might have a heart attack. Their bodies were covered in sweat as they held each other and tried to catch their breath. Her legs shook as he lay her back down on her back and collapsed beside her again. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and she exhausted him completely. He turned his head and gazed at her in adoration. Petyr leaned over and kissed her tenderly. She smiled back at it truly reached her eyes and it was for him. He smiled even though it killed him inside knowing the hurt he was about to cause her.

He pulled the sheets up again and tucked the pillow under his head before lying on his side and bringing her against him. He kissed the back of her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist before settling down. His eyes began to close when the faintest whisper escaped her lips.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Stone Cold

 

_I’m falling in love with you._

 

The moment the words fell out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. Sansa prayed that he had already fallen asleep. He didn’t speak and his hold around her waist hadn’t lessened. She could feel his steady breathing against her back and tried to relax.

_He’s asleep. He didn’t hear you._

Sansa settled in against his warm body and let her mind go. What was the worst that could possibly happen? Would she be so shocked to find that Petyr didn’t have any feelings for her? As far as she knew, it was just business to him. Joffrey was a mutual target that they both benefitted from. She was intensely attracted to Petyr and she wasn’t quite sure why. He was much older and not like any man she had ever been attracted to in her short life. Petyr was dangerous and she knew he was using her. What did she expect him to do, proclaim his undying love for her and that they sail away into the sunset? That was for the movies. Men like Petyr didn’t save the young damsel in distress. What kind of life would they have together?

A few months ago, Sansa could never have believed she’d be here right now laying in the arms of a man such as this. Hell, she never imagined she would ever be in Dorne of all places. She did things to him and let him do things to her that she only read about in magazines and saw online. She thought she should be ashamed but oddly, she wasn’t. Sansa enjoyed sex with him and the way he teased and pleased her. Tonight was different from the beginning. He was gentle and loving in a way he had never been. It wasn’t all about a good fuck. It certainly ended that way when she initiated the second round waking him the way she did. A sly smile formed on her lips remembering hearing him moan and his fingers in her hair…  _the way he begged her_. It had made her feel powerful that she reduced him to begging. Fuck, she was becoming hooked on this man. It wasn’t love, she reasoned, Petyr was a strange addiction. Sansa couldn’t possibly love a man she barely knew, a man that had also threatened her and a man that she didn’t know what to do with even if she had him. She didn’t know what to make of their relationship.

Petyr had sheer moments of tenderness that took her off guard, too. She fancied the necklace and he bought it for her. It had meaning. He cared. Cared for her. He wanted her to be safe. The festival was as close to a date or anything remotely normal between them since they met. He was very different today. It was as though Sansa peeked behind the curtain that was always surrounding him. Petyr seemed younger than his years. She imagined what he was like when he was her age. Would she have been attracted to him if she saw him in a club?

 _Yes_.

Sansa bet Petyr would have been just as mysterious and enigmatic twenty years ago as he was today. Those same piercing grey-green eyes and knowing smile but on a smooth face, free of age, and hair black as pitch. Yes, he must have been a handsome man then. He was handsome now. Petyr wasn’t gorgeous like those models or celebrities’ people seemed to fawn over, but he was still a striking man in his prime. She liked that he was older and more mature. Sansa always seemed to have issues with boys her own age. Now, here was a man that made her feel smart, important, sexy and in a strange way…  _cherished_. He also scared the shite out of her as well. Perhaps that was a part of his appeal. The danger and mystery. A soft man wouldn’t be in a position of control as Petyr seemed to be in the Syndicate. Oberyn clearly had respect for him and didn’t want his job. Oberyn knew how dangerous it was and chose to stay in Dorne and let Petyr do the dirty work. Granted they both appeared to have made millions as business partners but it did come at a price. The business had made Petyr a hard man and that was clear enough.

Originally, Sansa didn’t want to go on this boat trip with him. She was hoping he’d leave her at his house and she could have some quiet time to figure things out. Or better yet, take what she could and run for it. Petyr didn’t lie when he said it was a dangerous game they were playing. Twice her life had been in danger and twice Petyr had saved her from certain death. Since the altercation in front of the salon the other day, he had become increasingly distant and cruel. Sansa wanted to tease him like Oberyn enjoyed doing. She openly flirted and questioned his authority and was thrown in the sea for it. Sansa wasn’t lying when she told him she had a fear of deep water. She would have most likely drowned had he or Oberyn, not dove in after her. So, Petyr had, in fact, saved her three times and Sansa wondered if he was always going to be there to save her. She would be naïve to think like that.

The truth is what stung deep. Petyr was all she had in the world right now. He was the only person that cared about her and she was growing to care for him. She wanted him to be jealous; she wanted him to show something, any kind of emotion towards her. The last few days, he might as well just staked his claim the way he acted around Harry, Oberyn, Trystane and even Ellaria. Petyr let everyone know in his own way that Sansa was off-limits.

As possessive as he was, Petyr also let her drag him into the festival even though she could tell he wasn’t remotely interested. He let her spend his money with no word of complaint or restraint. He listened to Oberyn talk about the stone and waited for her to leave before buying it. Sansa fingered the stone that rested on her breast. The silver chain was delicate as was the intricate setting. Its simplicity was beautiful. The rough blue stone had flecks of copper and streak of green when the light hit it a certain way. She didn’t believe in magic. It was just a pretty necklace that he bought because she liked it and nothing more.

“You’re thinking so hard,  _my_  head hurts,” a tired voice whispered in her ear. Petyr’s arm tightened around her waist and she turned around to face him. His eyes were thin slits but he watched her with intensity. She could feel his breath on her face as she played with the soft hair on his chest and down his stomach. Petyr was still fit but traces of age were starting to show. He sighed deeply as his hand caressed her hip. “Sweetling, I’m afraid I’m too exhausted to go again,” his eyes closed, “as much as I would like to…”

Petyr thought she wanted to fuck again and she wasn’t trying to coax him. She just liked to touch him when he was relaxed and not on guard all the time. Sansa wrapped her arm around his waist and tucked her face into his chest under his chin pressing her body fully against him. She wanted to be held and nothing more in this moment of peace. She felt his fingers run through her hair and trail down her back. Those soft fingers made lazy circles upon her skin and it was lulling her to sleep. Lips kissed the top of her head and after a moment, she looked up to see his eyes were still open. He was thinking too since it was obvious he wasn’t sleeping either. Her hand drifted up and pulled his head down ever so gently until his lips met hers. His stubble was rough and she could still feel a slight burn on her upper lip from earlier. This kiss was soft and undemanding. It wasn’t anything more than gentle kissing with no intent to go further.

The man kissing her now was completely different than the one that took her virginity. He was tender and loving. His breath was still musky from their lovemaking but he always had a hint of lingering mint. The aroma of mint, whiskey and his cologne were uniquely Petyr. She’d know that scent anywhere. He was intoxicating. She pulled away and tucked her head back under his chin and sighed. She could stay here forever. Sansa wished that they didn’t have to go back to Kings Landing. She remembered Petyr’s calendar and Cersei’s party for Joffery was at the end of the week. A masquerade in the theme of Mythology. Sansa wondered how that was still going to work considering all the recent deaths. Then again, Joffrey was a stubborn and arrogant arse, and would not change a thing to prove his manhood. Petyr had said the Lannister’s yearly bash was always held in their home across the bay but Joffrey had insisted it be held at The Mockingbird this time.

Perhaps this is what Petyr had been grooming her for. It would be a perfect opportunity to seduce and probably kill him. Everyone would be in costumes and masks and this could be her best shot at taking her revenge. Sansa thought back to the gown Petyr purchased weeks ago. It had to be for this party. She couldn’t fathom where she would ever wear a dress such as that. Petyr had been planning this out from the beginning, she surmised. He had been teaching her how to seduce and play the game. Had he planned on always fucking her or was that just something that happened between them? Sansa was now having a difficult time separating what was purely business and personal. Something tonight changed and she felt it when he gave her the necklace. He had to feel something. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have brought her with him. He said he didn’t want to worry about her. Hell, he would have let her drown if he felt nothing towards her.

Petyr changed emotions and personalities so quickly, it was hard to keep up with him. Overhearing a bit between him and Oberyn, Sansa learned that Petyr was extremely powerful inside the Syndicate and perhaps had a notion to be the head someday soon. Perhaps that was his plan, to knock off the top Houses and take it all for himself. Like Oberyn, she couldn’t understand why he would want to be in control of the Syndicate. He would be a huge target for anyone wanting the same power. Killing Joffrey would get him that much closer to taking down Cersei Lannister and all that would be left was Jon Arryn.

Sansa played with his chest hair and frowned in thought. No, there was no future for her with a man like him. What she had right now was a silly schoolgirl crush on a rich, older man. Sansa was in over her head and she knew it. She wasn’t prepared for dealing with people like this. They were all liars and manipulators. She thought back to the briefcase under the banquette and thought she should have taken it and run. Even if she succeeded in killing Joffrey, she’d probably get killed in the process or afterwards. Either way, she would have to run. The entire time she was with Trystane, as nice as he was, she kept thinking about that briefcase. If she had run, she could have disappeared without the Lannisters searching for her.

Is that why he showed it to her? Petyr wanted her to run? Maybe that is why he really brought her here. When she bought the new clothes and changed for dinner, she wondered if he would show up. Part of her knew Petyr didn’t want to be here longer than he had to. Yet, he complimented her with his words and burning eyes. He kept her close to him at dinner and treated her like she was his girl, like she mattered to him. When she felt him behind her on the dancefloor, she let her inhibitions go. He came to her, wanted her and for all intents and purposes made his claim on her. She could have danced with him into the wee hours of the morning if the rain hadn’t come down. But it did, and now they were lying here after making love. None of this was planned tonight and Sansa couldn’t stop her emotions that were bubbling up. She had been trying to play him this entire trip but didn’t know if it backfired on her or him.

Petyr turned on his back and brought her with him. Her leg entwined with his and the soft pads of his fingers drew lazy patterns on her back. She could tell he was still awake but didn’t know what to say to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

After a moment, he replied, “For what?”

“Today. I know you didn’t want to be here, but I had a really good time,” she mumbled. “I love the necklace.”

She caressed his stomach and for a time he was quiet and Sansa began to wonder if he had fallen asleep. “I wanted you to enjoy it,” he spoke softly.

There was something odd in the way he said it but he held her closer and Sansa let it go. All that mattered was right here and now. His hand returned to her back and she felt herself falling asleep.

“Go to sleep, love. We have to be up early in the morning.”

_We_

That one little word made her smile against his skin. His measured breathing and the steady beat of his heart was like a drug and she felt her eyes finally close to the sensation.

 

* * *

 

 

A faint whistling filtered into the room as Sansa opened her eyes. It was still early by the light and she rolled on to her back and stretched. There was still a pleasurable ache between her legs and Sansa smiled thinking about what happened last night. A light was coming from the open door and she could see Petyr tinkering in the kitchen. The scent of fresh coffee filled her nostrils and she wrapped the wrinkled sheet around her body.

Padding into the lounge, Petyr finally noticed her and smiled sweetly. He had made two bowls of yogurt and fresh fruit and set the coffee on the table. He was already showered and dressed and she couldn’t help but smell him as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. He stilled for only a moment and touched her hand on his stomach before moving to the table.

“I feel underdressed for breakfast,” she tried to laugh.

Petyr’s eyes appraised her and she blushed. “Underdressed would be you in nothing more than my dress shirt… or preferably nothing at all,” he said before sipping his coffee. “Did you sleep well?” he asked when she sat down and started eating.

“Mmhmm… too well. I was so exhausted. You’re better than a sleeping pill,” she teased.

Petyr smiled into his coffee but was avoiding eye contact all of a sudden. Did he regret last night? She didn’t dare ask him but something was off this morning. Perhaps he was in a hurry to get under way and back to Kings Landing. Sansa pushed down her feelings again and ate her breakfast. They were silent for a long time to the point of discomfort until he finally spoke.

“I laid out some clothes for you after your shower. By the time you’re done, I should have the boat ready to leave.” Again, the way he spoke was strange. He certainly liked buying clothes for her but to have an outfit picked out specifically to wear today was odd even for him.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

Petyr finished off his coffee and smiled. “No, not at all. I just want to get out of here.”

It wasn’t reassuring at all and Sansa took her dishes to the sink. Petyr was a direct man and perhaps she was thinking too much into it. She walked to the bedroom when Petyr stopped her and turned her around to face him. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply. It wasn’t demanding and she unconsciously returned it and wrapped her arms around him. Slowly their lips parted breathlessly and she stared at him. Petyr smiled at her and gave her another quick peck.

“Off you go to the shower, you smell like sex,” he grinned.

“I’d ask you to join me, but it’s too small,” she teased walking into the stateroom.

“If I joined you, we’d never leave this dock today,” he teased back. “Don’t give me that look, I’m not falling for it,” he said when she beckoned him into the room.

“Fine, I’ll just have to finger myself in the shower,” she toyed with him before shutting the door.

Sansa waited for a few minutes and realized he wasn’t coming in after her. She guessed leaving here was far more important than a quick morning shag. The shower felt good and when she dried off, she could see the clothes Petyr had laid out for her and one of her toiletry bags. She could hear him above and figured he was ready to leave very soon. She combed her hair and pulled it back before putting on a little makeup.

Sansa walked up to the flybridge and saw Petyr busy in the cockpit. She sat down next to him but he didn’t acknowledge her presence and continued on. Something was definitely wrong as she watched him. When she was about to ask him, Petyr retreated downstairs without a word and for several minutes Sansa waited with a knot in her stomach. She stood up and started to pace when she looked down at the stern’s platform and heard his footsteps from below deck.

Her heart dropped and she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t need to turn around when Petyr moved past her with her toiletry bag and stepped down onto the platform where the rest of her luggage waited. She couldn’t move or speak as she stared blankly at her belongings. Everything that he had bought her since they met was sitting at his feet. She didn’t remember bringing so much luggage. He must have packed the rest of it himself. He had planned this all along.

Sansa finally drew her eyes up to look at him and his face was stone. Gone was the man from last night as he stood waiting impatiently. When she didn’t move, he picked up her bags and one by one set them on the wooden pier. He was leaving her here. That was all her brain could process. He was leaving her behind.

She heard him sigh and returned to the boat, climbing back up to where she was frozen. “Come on, I don’t have all morning. Don’t make a scene,” he grumbled.

Sansa willed the tears not to come. She was stronger than this, wasn’t she? She had been thinking on and off on how she could run since this all started but this was different. Leaving of her own accord was a far cry from being dumped in a foreign country by someone she was beginning to trust and care for. He was all that she had in the world since that fateful night. Now Petyr was getting rid of her and it hurt more than she ever thought it would. Her fingers automatically went to the blue stone around her neck and she couldn’t look at him.

“Why?”

“Don’t start asking questions, it won’t make this any easier for you. I packed the money and your new identity. You can disappear or stay here if you like.”

His tone was ice cold and he refused to touch her as he waited for her to move. When she didn’t, he finally pulled on her upper arm bringing her down the steps to the platform.

“Either you get off now, or you’ll be swimming. I don’t intend to dive after you a second time,” he said coldly.

She grabbed his hand and he flinched from her touch. The pang of hurt welled up and finally, the tears fell against her will.

“Tell me why, Petyr,” she pleaded softly.

He studied her for a moment and his face was devoid of emotion. “Because I have no further use of you.”

“Yesterday… last night meant nothing,” she said more to herself than to him.

“Oh, I appreciated last night immensely, thank you. I’m glad our last night together could be enjoyable,” he said as if she was a whore whom he just paid services for.

Her heart was breaking and she felt like an utter fool for falling for him. “You said once that I wasn’t a whore, yet apparently I was worth five-hundred grand to you. Perhaps you have found a new profession for me after all,” she muttered bitterly.

“Oh sweetling, you’re worth more than that. Fucking you was priceless, but I’m happy to wire you more money if you feel this settlement is too low.”

Hate bubbled up so quickly that her hand had a mind of its own and smacked him across the face. Petyr eyed her cautiously as he rubbed his jaw. He didn't retaliate in any way and for some reason, it made her more furious.

“You’re breaking your promise,  _our bargain_ , to help me. What about Joffrey?” she demanded.

“You were never going to be able to kill him and we both know it. Run away and start a new life, sweetling. I will take care of Joffrey, you have my word,” he offered nonchalantly.

“Your word means nothing,” she spat.

Petyr’s eyes flared and he stood tall, “You’re only alive because of me, my dear. You have given me moments of pleasure, I will not lie, but now it’s time for you to go. You have proven to be more of an occupational hazard to me… a hassle that I just don’t need. Be a good girl and get off the boat, if you please.”

“Why didn’t you just shoot me that night? Why bring me down here only to kick me to the curb?”

“Do you prefer death? I can arrange that. By all means, wait here while I get my gun. You were going to die in Kings Landing anyway, so it makes no difference if you die here instead.” The look on her face must have shown him her fear and he stopped in his tracks. “No? Come girl, I’m not that cruel. I am not leaving you destitute and having to beg on the streets. You have more than enough money to start a new life. That's far more generous than I would have ever given for anybody else. You’re a bright girl, Sansa. You’ll be just fine.”

Sansa was going to be sick. Why was she fighting him? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She couldn’t make her feet move and Petyr picked her up with a soft grunt and hauled her down to the platform. She didn’t scream, kick or make a fuss. Frankly, she didn’t know what to do as he lifted her to the pier. Her mind and body were completely numb.

“There’s a porter just over there to help you with your things,” he instructed as he untied the boat, “I have a reservation for you at the hotel just down the street for a week until you figure out what you want to do. It’s the Sun Spear. Everything is paid for and you won’t have to use any of your money. I’ll wire another five-hundred through the hotel and make it an even million. Last night was worth it. ”

Sansa was speechless and could do nothing but stare at him. She wanted to tell him she didn’t want his fucking money but she couldn’t make her voice work. Her fingers went to the stone around her neck again as he stood for a moment and regarded her with an odd expression. He didn’t smile but the way he looked at her this time had a hint of emotion that she couldn’t place.

“Goodbye sweetling, do yourself a favour and stay away from Kings Landing. There is nothing and no one for you there.”

Sansa watched as he ascended to the cockpit without another glance towards her. The motor hummed and began to pull away from the pier. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she ripped the stone from the chain around her throat and threw it as hard as she could at the retreating boat. It landed squarely on the swimming platform and for only a moment it glistened in the sun before disappearing with the man that ruined her life.

 

 

 


	30. Lost Myself

 

She didn’t know how long she sat there on her suitcase staring at the crystal blue water. It was quiet and no one bothered the lone girl on the pier with all of her luggage around her. She knew she needed to get up soon but she couldn’t will one muscle to move. Sansa’s eyes looked out across the horizon and there was no sign of him. She thought perhaps this was some deranged test and he was coming back, but she knew that was ridiculous. His voice rang in her mind on how she was a burden, a hassle… an inconvenience.

_I have no further use of you_

It hurt, oh God how it hurt. Was that the price for helping her? She gave herself to him and when he was done, he tossed her aside. Would he really kill Joffrey or was that ever the plan? Sansa didn’t know anything anymore. Everything could have been just one big lie. Maybe Myranda had been right all along. She was just a whore and was paid handsomely.

A stray tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She could still feel his kiss on her lips. The anger in her belly had long died and she felt empty. Finally, her brain told her body to get up.  Her feet took her to the porter. Legs decided to walk down the street instead of riding in a cab with her belongings. Eyes saw the words Sun Spear and the smile of the bellman that greeted her. Hands signed the papers at the front desk. Surprisingly without a thought; it was the signature of Alayne Stone that appeared on the paper. Sansa was long dead and Alayne was all that was left.

A cheerful voice opened the door to a suite and her somber one thanked him while handing the boy a generous tip as he placed what was left of her life in the bedroom. At the click of the door, an overwhelming silence filled the air. Her body found the bed and lay down. She cursed him as the tears fell. She hated that she was crying, but she couldn’t stop it. She had never felt so alone until now. From this moment on, she was on her own and Sansa had no idea what to do.

 

* * *

 

 

He gazed over the open sea and felt hollow. The whiskey in his glass hadn’t been touched for hours as his fingers barely clenched the rim. Petyr was mentally on autopilot as he steered past Tarth. He didn’t want to stop until he reached Blackwater Bay. He didn’t want to sleep until he got home. He prayed the distance he was putting between them would numb the ache he felt.

Petyr couldn’t erase the look of betrayal on her face from his mind when she realized what was happening. He hardened himself and wouldn’t let it affect his decision. It was the only choice he had. There was no way she could come back to Kings Landing. Petyr wasn’t lying when he told her she would die there. She wasn’t an assassin and Joffrey would surely kill her if not after torturing her first. Petyr couldn’t send her to that fate.

He could still smell and feel her soft skin. It would have been so much easier had he left her yesterday. Spending the day and making love to her last night was a terrible mistake. Her sweet voice said she loved him and Petyr knew he had to do it. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. It was a lie and he knew it. He didn’t want her to know what he really was. He didn’t want to see that look on her face again. Fear of him. Petyr would rather have her hate than fear.

He had to be cruel. He had to hurt her to make her never want to return again. It was better for her to forget all of this revenge madness. She was not built for this harsh world he lived in and he would be damned to see it tear her apart.

The pendant cut his palm as he gripped it. He heard it hit the platform when he left and didn't dare turn around. She didn’t scream or curse at him as she had every right to. When the sound of the stone hitting the deck, it cut him deeper and was worse than the slap she gave him. She was so beautiful standing there on the pier holding onto the very necklace he gave her. She was silently crying then and it hurt him. His heart ached for this girl he shattered into pieces.

He had been so close to turning around that Petyr finally berated himself for being weak. The last time he let a woman take his heart he almost died for it. So many years it had been since he had felt such emotions. WIth a sigh, he opened his laptop and made the transfer of money to seal the deal and be done with it. It was for the best he told himself. There was no future for a young girl, with her whole life ahead of her, and man like him. She would wake up and start over. Sana was stronger than she gave herself credit for. She would love again and forget all about him. Hades was giving Persephone back to the world above. Sansa belonged to the spring and summer and not the deadly winter of the underworld.

 

* * *

 

Sansa spent the remainder of the day in bed. She just wanted to sleep. Everything was so raw that she didn’t know what to do anyway. Night had come and a cool breeze flowed from the balcony. The soft crash of the ocean waves on the beach reminded her too much of waking in Petyr’s bedroom. Everything reminded her of him. She hated him and yet her thoughts strayed to him time and time again.

She gradually got up and walked about her room. It really was lovely, Sansa snorted. As if he would put her up in a rat hole. There was a small bar and she never needed a drink more than right now. Sansa grabbed the bottle of vodka and didn’t even bother with a glass. She padded barefoot to the balcony and sat down in the soft lounge chair.

Music was playing from somewhere further down the beach. The lights twinkled on the waves and Sansa laid back watching them. The vodka burned her throat and vaguely she thought she should eat unless she wanted to be sick. Depression won out and she stayed in her chair gazing over the dark ocean. Part of her brain knew she needed to start figuring things out but the vodka silenced that logic.

_You have tomorrow. Think about it tomorrow._

The next day came and went as she stayed in her room. Room service was ordered and she did nothing but lounge around in her silk nightgown. She wasn’t someone that was prone to depression, but Sansa didn’t want to go out. What was the point? She didn’t know anyone here and she wasn’t about to dine alone. If she was going to eat alone, she might as well stay here. The hotel staff probably thought she was eccentric. A rich girl allf alone in Dorne and yet stayed locked up in her room. Or better yet, what was a young, rich girl doing in Dorne all alone?

_You’re a bright girl… you’ll be just fine._

Once again, Sansa found herself on the balcony watching the lights. She wondered what he was doing tonight. God, she hated that she was thinking about him at all but she couldn’t help it. He invaded her every thought. Love sucks, she grumbled and took a sip of the wine she ordered with dinner.

_He would think this wine was shite._

Fuck, she couldn’t even drink without his voice in her head. He had to be back in Kings Landing by now. He would probably be back to shagging Myranda or finding some new naïve girl to fuck over. The alcohol was making her fuzzy but her anger was steadily returning. Too bad she didn’t know what happened to Harry’s phone number from that night. She wondered if he would have come down here if she asked. She could pay his way, she had loads of money now.

How funny that Petyr’s money would pay for the man he was jealous of to come and be with her. There was no way to contact him though, she sighe. Hell, she didn’t even know his last name. Petyr made damn sure she didn't connect with anyone and Sansa’s smile died. Everything came back to Petyr. How would she ever trust someone again?

_You stupid girl. You never should have trusted him in the first place._

Sansa thought it could be worse. She could be dead. That night, she had the most awful feeling he was thinking about killing her as he held her on the floor after her nightmare. She dreamed of her assassin and Petyr wasn’t there to save her. When she saw the man’s face, it was Petyr holding the knife. Waking to find him in her room with his gun had her wanting to run.

_See? You should have followed your instincts. You knew something was wrong but you let him drag you down here and fuck you like a common prostitute._

If she had run away, she wouldn’t have had anything. No money, clothes, nothing. He was trying to give her the money before but she didn’t have the stones to ditch Oberyn’s nephew and come back to the yacht for it.

_Admit it; you wanted to stay with him. You were never going to run. At least he paid you well._

The front desk had called up that morning advising her a wire transfer had come in from a private bank account. Petyr sent the five-hundred after all. She thought he was being facetious, but he actually sent the money. Sansa laughed bitterly.

_A million-dollar whore, that’s me._

Sansa leaned back into the lounge as the wine and sound of the waves were making her sleepy. She really needed to think about where she went from here. She couldn’t stay in this room forever. Sansa thought back to all the shops nearby. She could get a job. Put the money away and use what she needed. It was nice down here and she thought she would be reasonably safe. Petyr said Oberyn pretty much owned it all and Oberyn seemed to like her but she didn’t want to work for him. She knew what and who he was involved with. But if he knew she was no longer connected with Petyr, she wasn't so sure how he would treat her.

Perhaps staying here wasn’t a good idea either. She could go to Europe and set up Swiss bank account, the States, Braavos across the sea could be a good start. Europe sounded better. Finish university and maybe set up shop somewhere quaint. Sansa had enough of the big city and a small country town was sounding better the more she thought of it. In a place like that, her money could stretch far. She felt herself drifting off and didn't even get out of the lounge to go to bed.

Sansa woke up to a raging migraine. She needed to lay off the booze. Drowning her sorrows over a man wasn’t doing her any favours. After breakfast, she figured she would stroll around the town now that it was quieter without a big festival going on. Today, she would research her options and decide where to go once Petyr’s accommodations ran out. Did he expect her to stay for the full time allotted? Did he keep track of her and the bill she was racking up?

_Stop thinking about that arsehole_

Sansa showered and dressed for the first time in two days and left the hotel. It was a peaceful place, she thought as she walked down the street. After stopping in a small café, she decided to do a little window-shopping. She always wanted to be like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and here she was, the real version of it without the fairytale ending. This is how the story really ended, she mused. Men like that didn’t fall in love with the whore. They either kept them or paid them off.

_You’re not a whore._

She pushed down those rotten feelings repeatedly. To hell with it, she berated herself as she stepped into the first shop. A little retail therapy never hurt. The saleswomen treated her kindly enough and there was no man in the dressing room to gossip about. There was no mysterious man picking out the clothes for a girl far too young for him. There was nothing but a rich, young lady shopping by herself. Sansa smiled at when she shocked an entire store by taking off her knickers and putting them in Petyr’s pocket. He had kept them and she never saw that lacy garment since, she grinned as she looked through the lingerie. Suddenly, the shop was suffocating and she needed to get out of there. Sansa quickly paid for her items in cash and left as if she were going to retch. God damn him. She couldn’t even go fucking shopping without him on her mind.

_Damn you, Petyr, you son of a bitch! I hope the Syndicate kills you!_

Sansa walked to the beach and sat down on a bench. She needed to get her shite together and focus but her mind was clouded. The beach was quiet except for a few people and she was grateful. Sailboats could be seen in the distance and Sansa wasn’t sure how long she sat there until a familiar voice spoke behind her ear.

 

* * *

 

 

*

 

 


	31. Memorial Beach

 

“Sent you to spy on me, did he?” the jovial voice japed lightly.

Sansa didn’t need to turn around to know it was Oberyn. He owned the town but she wondered if he just happened upon her or if he knew she was here all along. Sansa tried to smile but she was too absorbed in her own thoughts. The dark-haired man came around the wooden bench and sat down observing her with curiosity.

“So, are you going to tell me what is going on or do I need to call and nag the fuck out of him like a wife?” he teased but something told Sansa she wouldn’t put it past Oberyn to actually do it.

“We’ve parted ways,” she spoke the truth avoiding his studious gaze.

“I gathered that after he left you here the other day.”

That made her look at him at last in surprise. Sansa didn’t know whether to be angry or depressed all over again. Clearly he knew she was here and Petyr had left her here intentionally but not as to the reason.

“From the look on your face, I’d say it wasn’t a mutual agreement,” he added somberly.

Sansa returned her eyes to the ocean before her and didn’t answer him. This fucking boys club, she seethed. Petyr talked about how Oberyn basically liked to fuck around and paid highly for the enjoyment and yet Petyr seemed to be the same. Did Oberyn know Petyr’s intentions and just played along?

“Told you, did he?”

“Not in the way you think. The hotel notified me when a large sum of money was transferred to a young woman under the name of Alayne Stone. I assumed Petyr would have to know that they would tell me about something like that. I own everything here. There’s nothing that doesn’t escape my attention in my town,” he said watching her every move.

“Don’t you trust your friend?” she inquired with a raised eyebrow.

That made him chuckle. “If there is one man outside of Dorne I trust, it’s Petyr. But it piqued my curiosity on why he would transfer such an amount to you after leaving you here. I know he made the reservation and that you’re booked until the end of the week. Do you want to tell me why?”

Fear started to fill her and she didn’t know how to answer him. He seemed to believe that either Petyr was watching him or that he dumped her here after having his fun. She honestly didn’t know which he believed more.

“Have no fear of me, darling,” he offered, sensing her discomfort. “You are no spy or assassin that is for certain.” That declaration stiffened her spine. Why did every man think she was this broken china doll? Sansa scoffed at herself. She was sitting on a bench mooning over a man that ditched her two days ago.

“Let’s start with your real name.”

Oberyn was no fool. He may have given the impression of being a light-hearted and joking man, but a fool didn’t run a drug cartel in Dorne. Sansa’s heart pounded. She didn’t know this man past that he and Petyr were trusted business partners and friends. Petyr had cut all ties and left her to her own devices. The Martells didn’t seem to like the Lannisters, but who knows what a man would do with such information as her identity. Clearly, she wasn’t important to Petyr and he was no longer her protector. As nice as he was, how could she trust Oberyn Martell?

“My dear, as long as you are no threat to me, my family or business, I see no reason for the pretense any longer. It seems your last protector dumped you here with enough money to run away. That would be my guess anyway. I won’t insult you insinuating that he paid you for services rendered,” Oberyn smiled. “Petyr is a wealthy man, but I have never known him to hand off that much money to his assistant, lover or whatever it is you are to him.”

Sansa frowned, “I’m nothing to him.”

“Far from that, darling. Never in all the years I’ve known him has he done something like this… to my knowledge. If you meant nothing, he would have let anyone have their way with you. He certainly would not have paid out five-hundred grand to any woman. No, I’d say you’re someone special.”

Oberyn spoke casually but his body language told her he expected an answer. She was in his domain and had no one else to turn to for help.

“Who is he hiding you from? Let’s try that,” he asked softly.

Sansa closed her eyes and sighed. What choice did she have?

“The Lannisters,” she whispered.

Oberyn gauged and weighed her response. “Ah, my good friends, the Lannisters.”

Sansa’s eyes shot open in fear and dared a look at him. Oberyn studied her for a moment and then grinned. “It seems we have a mutual enemy,” he offered meekly. “Don’t fear. I hold no loyalty or friendship to those degenerates.”

It did not quell her fear and it must have shown in her face.

“Don’t believe me? Well, here’s a small tale of the love I have for the Lannisters.” Oberyn sat back and relaxed against the bench. “My sister was married into the Targaryen House when they ran the Syndicate, the oldest crime family that started everything in Kings Landing. Ambition and greed brought them down in the form of the Baratheons and Lannisters. The Arryns and Starks did not hold the power they commanded later and certainly didn’t have the money backing them. Robert and Tywin were so ruthless, that they destroyed the Targaryens completely including everyone in association with them. Tywin ordered my sister and her children to be butchered by one of his henchmen. The Starks and Arryns were against it, so I was told, but it was already done by the time they knew of such plans that had been laid. Petyr and I were just beginning our business partnership and he warned me. That’s how I know I can trust him.”

Oberyn paused for a moment and Sansa was engrossed in his tale. “I was too late. After burying her and her children, I vowed revenge on the Lannisters and Baratheons. I killed Tywin and his sons to prove a point and then moved down here and broke from the Syndicate. My dear, I’ve had many attempts on my life but those bastards aren’t the brightest. Petyr kept me informed of every threat. Once Petyr came into power, he reinstated trade with us which made everyone profitable and silenced the Lannister bloodthirst among the other Houses. Robert tried to keep control but his death was inevitable. Now the Starks are gone and the only reasonable House is Jon Arryn. It won’t be long before Cersei and her dreadful boy are killed but I’m already at peace with it all.”

Sansa didn’t know much about the inner working of the Syndicate only that her father wanted out. Listening to Oberyn now, it all started to make sense.

“There, you know my secret. Well, you and Petyr. He helped me set it all up.” Oberyn stared at her and tried to read her mind. “And now he’s been helping you, hasn’t he? Petyr is a resourceful man and whatever it is, he must have found it too dangerous for you. He’s never taken an interest in a woman like this since…” Oberyn looked down and became quiet for a time as he was trying to piece things together.

“Since…” she probed.

He turned and looked at her directly, “That is not my story to tell,  _Miss_ …”

Sansa held her breath and decided to let it go. Oberyn was either going to let her leave, hand her over to the Syndicate or just kill her. She was entirely in his hands now.

“Stark,” she breathed.

The stared at each other in silence and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

“The Lannisters killed your family… probably sent Petyr to clean it up… and he found you, didn’t he?” Sansa nodded slowly and Oberyn lifted her chin and looked closely at her face. “Yes, I can see it now. You have the look of your mother. I can see why he would…” Oberyn hesitated in thought, “That would make you the eldest daughter.”

“Yes.” What was it about her mother? Is that what Petyr saw when he looked at her?

“I see. So, he hid you away with the intention of saving your life. Yet, he changed how you look, kept you in Kings Landing for weeks and in the end you are surprised he left you here with money to run away. Your intention was never to run, was it? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? I can’t say that I blame you for that. I wanted to kill every Lannister when my sister was murdered… and they took your entire family.” Oberyn paused to think, “What went wrong?”

Sansa avoided his gaze and answered, “I don’t know. He just left me and said he was wiring money and that’s the last I heard from him.” She didn’t need to tell him she had more money in her possession or anything else between them.

“But you care about him,” he pointed out. “I don’t think I imagined that. The chemistry between the two of you is powerful, I must say. He cares for you a great deal if I were a betting man.”

“He doesn’t. He broke our bargain and… he used me… “

Oberyn sighed and took her hand. “My dear, I won’t pretend I know what is going on and you clearly don’t want to tell me nor should you have to. It isn’t my business. I  _am_  a nosy fellow but you are too much a tender thing to suspect you of anything sinister. I feel I’m fairly a good judge of character.” He exhaled and didn’t let her go, “Petyr is not just a complicated man but a very dangerous one at that. Whatever he has planned up North, I don’t want any part of. I’ve had my fill of revenge and blood but there’s something eating away at him and it will only lead to one finality. It’s probably the best thing for you is to leave….  _Sansa_ , isn’t it?”

Everyone was intent on telling her what to do. She should feel relieved that Oberyn wasn’t going to harm her in any way and let her go, but she didn’t. Something kept gnawing at her insides. Everyone was making decisions for her in some fashion. Her parents knew what was best for her. Petyr knew what was best for her and now another man was telling her what to do. Sansa was sick and tired of people telling her how to live.

Petyr could have told her he was planning on taking her to Dorne for this reason. She probably would have fought it but at least she would have had a choice. No, he led her on to think she was going to get her revenge. He took advantage of her and let her believe he cared, let her fall for him and then chucked her almost immediately after…

Sansa cursed herself. She told him she was falling in love with him that night. She had hoped he didn’t hear her and he probably did. He said love was dangerous and worthless. He didn’t want a lovesick girl hanging onto him. That didn’t explain him packing all of her things. No, he had planned this before they left his house on the bay. Yet, he still didn’t tell her. He was cruel and horrible and nothing like the man from the day before. It was all an act so he could fuck her.

Oberyn’s voice brought back to the present. “Well,  _Sansa_ … my sympathies for your loss. Your father was a good man and no child deserves a death like that. Just as I told Petyr, I am telling you. That place is nothing but death and destruction. The Lannisters are surely to get their comeuppance if I know Petyr. You’re not the only one that wishes them dead. And now that Bolton boy taking over your family’s position… It’s all a recipe for disaster in my opinion. You don’t strike me as a dumb woman. Take the money and go.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she whispered and Oberyn brought her hand to his lips.

“Lovely girl, nothing is easy,” he said serenely. “I made the decision to let it go because I didn’t want harm to befall my family. I can’t tell you what to do. I will say that you risk your life if you return to Kings Landing. I know how it feels to want that satisfaction. I’m here to tell you it doesn’t heal or take away the pain and it certainly doesn’t bring them back.”

Sansa pulled her hand away gently and gazed at the kind man. “You have a family to protect. I have nothing to lose. I want him to pay.”

“Do you really have nothing?” Oberyn countered. “You are young, beautiful and smart. You have a long life ahead of you if you just take it. Leave this nasty business to him. I have a feeling that the Syndicate is about to come crumbling down. You certainly don’t want to be in the middle of that mess when it happens. You are too good for that ugly world. Let Petyr deal with it.”

“And if I don’t want to? Do I have any options?” she asked with a returning strength to her voice.

There was a sadness in his eyes when he nodded. “There are always options. Are you asking for my help, Miss Stark?”

“And if I am?” she prodded gently.

“I will not work against my friend and partner so if you have designs for revenge on him, I will not aid you. As much as I think someone needs to save him from himself… but I think that time has come and gone. If your true intent is to avenge your family then I may have a few possibilities. I urge you to stay here. I’m sure we can find a good situation for you here.”

Sansa laughed bitterly, “Are you sure he didn’t put you up to this? For a man that already took his revenge, you sure are convincing as to let it all go. Would you still have killed Tywin and his sons if you had it to do all over again?”

Oberyn smiled dejectedly, “You are right. If I were in your shoes, I would want the same thing. Are you prepared to die for this revenge? I have a sinking feeling that you will not live through this.”

She smiled, “Everyone seems to think I’m incapable of handling myself. I have one advantage, I’m already dead. They can’t kill me twice and Alayne is already dying. I’m going back and I was hoping to get there in one piece. I’ll give you all the money I have if I can get back to Kings Landing by Friday night.”

“Cersei’s party at The Mockingbird?” he asked already knowing the answer. Sansa nodded and he was deep in thought. “How do you plan to get inside? It is invitation only and I’m fairly sure Petyr will not let you in.”

“I’m sure I can find a way. If not, I’ll try something else,” she said not letting him sway her.

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” he asked with a sigh.

“No. With or without your help, I’m going back. You have no reason to help me, I understand that but I’m still asking,” she said.

For the longest time, he stared at her with such sorrow.

“Well, I can’t have you trying to get back on your own. There are too many shady people that would take advantage of you and most likely you would never get past Tarth or the marshes.” Oberyn looked back to the ocean, “I will come to the hotel tomorrow. I can have a plane take you to Kings Landing but that’s as far as I can help you. Once you land, you’re on your own my dear.” He stood and gazed down at her. “I wish you would change your mind but I know you’re not going to. You and I are similar creatures, Sansa. Stubborn to a fault once we set our minds to something.”

“You won’t tell Petyr about this?” she wondered aloud.

“No, but you must promise me that he knows nothing of my involvement. I can’t help him any more than I can help you,” he sighed.

“But you are helping me.”

Oberyn kissed her forehead. “No, I’m not. I’m sending you into hell even if it’s of your own free will.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	32. Gods & Monsters

 

 

The city lights twinkled against the night sky as she drove from the hotel. She leased the Jaguar when she arrived in Kings Landing as nothing but the best would do. The dress limited her movements as it was extremely form-fitting. It was a blessing she hadn’t gained any weight since she was fitted weeks ago for Sansa never would have been able to zip it up. It was difficult enough putting the damn thing on herself as it was. Soft jazz played and it put her in the mood as she took the turn to the main boulevard. The Mockingbird wasn’t too far and she used the time to get into character. Butterflies were threatening to flutter up but she kept pushing those little winged bastards down to the pit of her stomach. Blue eyes draped with glamourous lashes glanced in the rearview mirror briefly before returning to the road.

She wasn’t nervous or scared, not really. After speaking with Oberyn at the beach, Sansa chose the path she ultimately would now follow. She knew the risks and no one was going to persuade her otherwise. This is what she wanted in the beginning and was distracted from her goal. It didn’t matter who got in her way this time, she was willing to do what was needed. Revenge was an ugly business, Oberyn told her and she had no doubt of it.

Sansa had spent the next day after their meeting working out her plan. It wouldn’t be perfect but that didn’t matter anymore. She was tired of waiting for something to transpire under Petyr’s reigns and decided to make it happen. In one of the bags she packed, Sansa found her cellphone. She swiped through it and was shocked to see that Petyr had not disconnected it.

_He must have forgotten about it_

It didn’t have the data on the Mockingbird like it used to, but it still had the contacts she programmed in. She was tempted to call Olyvar when Oberyn knocked on her door. He arranged for her flight on a private jet that would land Friday afternoon. That would give her just enough time to check in to her hotel and get ready. It was a masquerade after all and if she could convince or buy Olyvar off to let her in, she could possibly buy at least one bouncer. If what Petyr said was true, only Myranda was told Alayne was murdered. She could luck out. It was a game of chance but there were going to be so many guests that it was entirely plausible she could find a way in. She knew the ins and outs of the club. The trick was trying to not gain the attention of a certain club owner.

When she had gone through her bags, she saw that Petyr had indeed packed the gown with her other belongings. He would not have a use for it, so it didn’t shock her to see it there. A few days ago, she was ready to burn that damn dress until an idea came to mind. Sansa shopped around and purchased a beautiful masque made of black lace with emeralds, sapphires and peacock feathers to match the dress. She would become the Queen of the Underworld as she smiled in the mirror. The mistress to the devil himself.

Sansa found black lace appliques for her face just in case she was unmasked. With the makeup tips from Martin for a glam evening look, the lace and mask… she was hopeful she wouldn’t be recognized. If she could avoid Petyr somehow, she just might get to Joffrey. It would be too bold and obvious to poison him with so many eyes watching, but it would be her last resort if she didn’t have enough time to seduce him to take her outside the club for a more private affair.

Sansa was betting on his arrogance and ego to get around security that surely his mother would insist on having. The fact that the party wasn’t rescheduled or moved back to Lannister property, in light of all the recent murders, told her that Joffrey wanted everyone to believe he had no fear.

When Oberyn gave her the poison she asked for, he surprised her with an envelope that he placed on the coffee table. She opened the envelope to find a gilded invitation inside. Sansa’s questioning eyes asked and he weakly smiled.

“Since her father’s and especially Robert’s death, Cersei has been inviting Ellaria and me to her vapid parties. To others in the Syndicate, she was trying to appear as letting bygones be bygones but to think that I would actually show up was hilarious. She has never been the bright bulb in the family, I must say. Her intrigues are laughable. I usually toss these in the bin the moment they come in… but it sat on my desk for weeks and I never knew why I hadn’t thrown it away.” Oberyn smiled sadly as he met her eyes, “It seems fate has wanted our paths to cross after all.”

“It has your names on it, though. How can I use it? You said you didn’t want Petyr to know of your involvement,” Sansa pointed out.

“Yes, I know,” he sighed. “But I know him and the Lannisters. You won’t get in without this. When you arrive, present this as Ellaria. With your dark hair, the security may not question it. They will ask you about me and you can say that I will arrive later. It will raise a red flag with Petyr. He knows damn well I do not attend these trite affairs of Cersei’s, especially not one for her sodding brat. However, with it being a masquerade, you can try and disappear in the crowd for just long enough to get the job done.”

Oberyn flipped the invitation over and showed her the scan code. “See this? Petyr devised it to appease Cersei so that every guest is tracked as they are admitted. I’m guessing he’ll know within minutes that my name has popped up on the register, so you won’t have much time. I don’t think he would suspect I am helping you but my attending will put him on alert. By the time he starts looking for me or Ellaria, hopefully, the deed will be done. I certainly hope you know what you’re doing, my dear. This poison is… well, it will be a most painful death. If you’re lucky, you just might make it out of there before they lock the place down.”

A look of distress came over him as he thought of his next words. “I would hate to think of what she would do to you if you were caught.” He paused again as if trying to find a gentle way to say what was in his mind. “You know that I and Petyr will not be able to help you if that happens. The Syndicate would think I ordered the hit and to be honest, I can’t imagine Petyr stepping in and risking everything he’s worked for. Once you leave here, you are on your own.”

Sansa didn’t hold it against Oberyn. This wasn’t his revenge. She was grateful that he was helping as much as he had. Sansa had no delusions that Petyr would aid her anymore. Leaving her here was obvious enough of that fact. “Yes, I understand the risks and I would never cause you or your family harm. Won’t they suspect you using this invitation?”

“Oh, I have an alibi if this goes to hell. Ellaria and I will be sure to have a huge party with so many witnesses, video and pictures there will be no way it can be disproved. I will say the invitation must have been stolen… and it would look very stupid of me that after all these years, when I suddenly attend, that her son just happened to be murdered. I don’t think there’s one person in the Syndicate that would say I’m that idiotic. If you are not caught or dead, the woman that checked into the hotel will be a ghost and untraceable to me other than she was from Dorne. Perhaps an old, scorned lover framing me with my enemy’s murder? It won’t matter, they’ll never touch me down here and they know it. Petyr will know, but he won’t expose me without exposing himself in the process.”

Sansa smiled at him warmly and stood to embrace him in kind. “I can never thank you enough for what you have done. I will be forever grateful.”

“Don’t thank me, my dear. I don’t like this game you’re playing but I won’t deny you your revenge for your family. May I have one thing in return?” he whispered.

“Anything.”

He leaned forward and his kiss was gentle and chaste. Oberyn didn’t attempt to take it any further and pulled away gazing at her.

“He is truly a fool,” he said to himself rubbing his thumb softy against her jaw. “Goodbye, you lovely girl. You deserve so much better than this.”

With that, he was gone. He didn’t come with her to the hangar, as he said he would guarantee her safety to Kings Landing. Oberyn’s men were kind and didn’t ask questions as the dark-haired beauty climbed in the plane. All of her luggage was stowed away and arrangements had already been made for a driver to take her to the hotel.

Petyr’s money was well spent to keep her façade. She purchased designer luggage and reserved one of their most expensive suites. Alayne Stone was too obvious if Petyr had his people keeping tabs if she were to ever show up back in the city. Oberyn made her a fake id with a Dornish name and Sansa acted older than her years giving the air of a wealthy lady as she checked in.

She had the concierge lease the Jaguar and paid for everything in cash. It was all coming together as she bathed and headed downstairs to the salon. Sansa sat patiently as the woman swept her hair up into an elegant updo and Sansa thought the sapphires she bought in Dorne would look brilliant against her long neck and porcelain skin. It was easy to spend someone else’s money. That money was locked in the safe and if she lived through this, she could come back here and check out and disappear once again. No one would be looking for Alayne Stone. If Petyr didn’t want to be exposed as Oberyn said, he would stay quiet and let her vanish.

Sansa took her time applying her makeup as Martin showed her weeks before. Tonight she had to look perfect. She lightly glued the delicate black lace around the orbits of her eyes. A smoky shimmer was dusted on with false lashes that made her eyes turn a vivid blue even with the mask on. She looked older than her twenty years and Sansa thought she might just be able to pull it off posing as Ellaria.

The dress hugged her every curve and she looked like a movie star from the old days. The cut of the dress was elegant and yet very seductive showing just enough of her décolletage. Not too much though. The bodice was altered to cover her shoulder and the scar that was her true identity. Dark sapphires glimmered in the low light of the dressing room as she draped them around her neck.  Sansa touched up her ruby lips and opened the fragrance Martin gave her. It worked on Petyr it seemed and she wondered if it was an aphrodisiac of some kind. It had a light and pleasing scent and Sansa thought it couldn’t hurt. She dabbed the fragrance on her wrists, behind her ears and on her breasts. The vial of poison was hidden between those breasts in case they searched her clutch.

She took one last look in the mirror and was satisfied. If she was going to die tonight, at least she looked spectacular. Sansa laughed silently at tomorrow’s headlines.

_Goddess of the Dead kills Joffrey Baratheon_

Sansa placed the invitation in her clutch and called down to have her new car brought around by the valet. She could have had a driver take her but she thought it would be better to have her own car in case of a getaway. She knew where they kept the valet keys and parked the cars of VIP guests. Sansa had a change of clothes in the trunk just in case. If there was any justice, she would be able to escape but resigned herself to the ultimate fate. With luck, she could get Joffrey to leave with her before Petyr discovered the ruse.

The club wasn't far and she could see a few cars ahead of her. Sansa had opted to arrive later hoping to avoid a long wait to valet and entrance. Surely, there would be quite a few people here tonight. She bet Joffrey would want to best the production for when Oberyn was in town.

She looked in the mirror again and took a deep breath.

_Everyone underestimates you and tonight will prove them all wrong._

The valet opened the door and helped her out. She knew the boy and he didn’t recognize her at all.

_A good start._

She gave him a generous tip and he promised to take extra care of her Jaguar. He helped her to the walkway and returned to her car. Sansa saw Brian and Thomas, the two main bouncers that no one dared to cross unless they wanted to have their teeth rearranged. Brian, the tall one smiled and as she handed him her invitation. By her elegant and rather expensive appearance, he didn’t question it but Thomas was the one to address her.

“Mrs. Martell? We haven’t seen you in a very long time. Will Mr. Martell be joining you?” he asked politely but firmly.

Sansa had practiced copying Ellaria’s and Oberyn’s accent and she hoped it was good enough. She deepened her voice a little and let words slither out like a seductive snake. “Of course. He’ll be late and I didn’t want to wait for him. I’m in the mood to play.”

Sansa was worried she overdid it, but the man grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll be pleased. Mr. Baelish has a variety of new playthings since you were here last.” Sansa smiled wickedly as he scanned the invitation just as Oberyn said he would.

The clock was ticking and Sansa knew she had only so much time before Petyr discovered her. What would he do if he got to her first? Sansa pushed it from her mind. Her target was Joffrey and that’s all that mattered. Thomas let her through the velvet rope and she stood at the entrance as the door was opened for her. She stood tall and wrapped herself in mystery as she entered the noisy club.

 

* * *

 

 

The place was packed and Sansa vaguely wondered if Joffrey invited anyone and everyone just to make sure it was filled. She couldn’t imagine anyone really liked him except his cronies. Margery flirted with him but it was because he had money and power. No girl with any sense would actually want Joffrey if it weren’t for those two things.

The music was pounding and Sansa slowly made her way through the dense crowd. There was not one face that wasn't covered by some kind of mask. There were loads of girls dressed as Aphrodite. Sansa rolled her eyes at the originality. Zeus, Bacchus, Poseidon, Thor and other Viking gods were dancing and drinking. Costumes consisted of primarily Greek and Roman mythology. There were a few resourceful and ingenious costumes in the form of some of the more well-known monsters. An eye-popping Medusa was on one of the platforms and Sansa had to tear her eyes away in fear of watching her for too long.

Men ogled her from behind their masks as she moved further into the crowd. Many tried to pull her to them to dance or ask to buy her a drink and she refused every time. As she looked around for Joffrey, Sansa kept a keen eye out for Petyr. He didn’t seem like the type to dress up and wondered if he was on the main floor at all, in the VIP room or somewhere upstairs watching from the cameras. Security and the staff seemed to be the only people without masks. The bartenders and cocktail waitresses were slammed with business and didn’t take any notice of their former manager in disguise.

Sansa spied Margery walking with three drinks in her hands and wasn’t surprised at all that she was dressed as the goddess of love. At least she wasn’t practically naked like some of the other girls in their non-existent sexy costumes. Loras wasn’t far away and didn’t seem to bother with a costume and she guessed he was Adonis. He was dancing with none other than Olyvar who appeared to be the only person on Petyr’s staff allowed to dress up and wear a mask.

Her gaze returned to Aphrodite as she made her way to her brother and there was Joffrey. The arrogant fuckwit was dressed as Apollo and Sansa stifled a laugh.

_Dream on. The Sun God you are not. Better suited as the Minotaur, you bullheaded fucker._

Sansa watched from a distance and it was clear he was already or very close to being soused. She couldn’t believe she actually fancied him once. The idiot couldn’t dance to save his life as he hung all over Margery. As she studied them, men continued to hit on her as she pushed each away and then thought better of it. She needed to get close to him and maybe flirting with some of these men and attracting his attention away from Margery was what she needed. Usually, the men flocked around Margery and tonight, they seemed to be interested in the dark and mysterious goddess instead.

One by one, Persephone gathered a growing entourage of suitors dying to know who was behind the mask. She let them buy her drinks but she didn’t taste one lest she lose control. Slowly she made her way closer to the Sun God and made sure to glance in his direction. A few times she caught his eye as it wandered from the Venus in his arms. She played the game she observed Margery play so many times with men. She didn’t openly flirt with him or give come hither looks. But every so often she would make sure he saw she was checking him out. He held her gaze for a moment as she danced with a handsome Norse god and she instead gave Margery a disapproving look.

Margery left him to talk to her friends and instead of following, he watched the dark goddess as she ignored him completely. Finally, he approached and tried to get her attention only to receive rejection and a ‘fuck off’ by the Norse god. But Sansa knew Joffrey wasn’t the sort to take no for an answer and didn’t feign shock with he pushed the other man back taking his place.

Just when he was about to speak, a much older and haggard-looking Aphrodite pushed past and Sansa suddenly turned around and into Joffrey to avoid her. She was face to face with her murderer and Sansa was pleased with herself for not spitting in his face before punching it repeatedly. Instead, she lowered her voice and slipped on her armor.

“Sad to see Apollo aim so low,” she teased.

“I’m sorry?” he said in confusion.

Yes, the Lannisters were not a bright bunch. Money certainly did not buy intelligence and wit. What did she see in him again? His breath smelled of too much tequila and Sansa had to will herself not to wrinkle her nose.

“Your  _love_ goddess. Not very original for a sun god. Quite boring and predictable,” she provoked him with a tone of nonchalance.

The boy eyed Sansa up and down, “And who are you?”

Sansa gave him a half-smile, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She turned away from him and saw Lysa approach Olyvar. God, when would this woman ever dress her age? She was an over the hill Aphrodite and it was depressing. When Sansa got that old, at least she would opt for a more suitable costume. She heard Lysa ask about Petyr and Olyvar just shrugged and said he didn’t know where he was. Sansa scanned the room and didn’t see him and wondered the same thing. Petyr picked out this dress and would most likely know it was Sansa if he saw her. Little did she know that a masked man stood watching from a distance as Persephone toyed with Apollo. There were two devils here tonight with a sharp eye on anything to benefit them.

Lysa was yelling at Olyvar and she pushed Loras when Margery came to his defense. “Lay off my brother, grandma,” Margery spat and her friends laughed. Sansa almost felt sorry for Lysa. “Fuck, you make Medusa look good. Who are you supposed to be?”

Lysa rushed away and Sansa was relieved until Joffrey turned her back to him. “I asked your name.”

Sansa smiled, “No you didn’t. You asked who am I. Let me tell you what I am not. A gold-digging love goddess. I thought a man such as you had better sense… and taste.”

“You know me?” He eyed her suspiciously.

“Oh yes…” and she leaned in whispering in his ear, “…Joffrey. You see, I admire a man with no fear. After all these murders you still host a party where everyone is in disguise. I like a man that is strong and powerful.” She leaned back and smirked wickedly, “too bad he has terrible taste in women.”

“My mother wanted to cancel it, but I told her off. I run the Syndicate now and I don’t fear anybody,” he smiled.

“Hmm… doesn’t explain your bad judgment in women though. She’ll take you for every penny,” she played glancing at Margery.

“Marg? You don’t know her,” he waved off.

“Don’t I? Her kind are all the same. All she wants is the bigger, better deal. You’re smarter than that,” she baited him.

“Why the fuck do you care? I don’t know who you are,” he sneered and Sansa had to tread carefully now that she had his riled up.

“Because I like you… and you deserve better. You need a queen, not some little gold-digging whore that claims to love you,” she grinned leaning into him again.

“And you are?”

“I am the Queen of the Underworld, my golden god. Won’t you save me from my dark world?” she purred.

“And you’re not some gold-digging whore?” he said but his body language and eyes told her he was interested and turned on.

“Who needs to dig when you have your own gold in abundance? I don’t need a man for his money.” She nuzzled his ear and hated being this close to him. “I desire powerful men and if my instincts are correct, you are what I desire. But you have to ditch that whore over there. I will not play second best and I know you don’t want to settle for second best.”

Just then Margery marched over and stood before them and Sansa didn’t flinch or move away from her man.  Sansa turned back to Joffrey and played softly, “Well, it looks like the future _Mrs_. Baratheon is ready to tell you how to live your life. Perhaps I was wrong about you.”

She was just about to pull away when he grabbed her hand and Margery huffed at him. Sansa grinned madly and leaned into him, “Ah, maybe you’re my powerful sun god after all.” She opened her clutch and took out a card. Sansa knew she didn’t have much time and it would be too obvious now if she tried to poison him. She’d never get out of the club. She handed him the card and leaned in so close their lips almost touched. “Let’s find out what kind of man you really are.”

Sansa left him standing there with his mouth hanging open and Margery fit to be tied. She saw him look at the card and knowing it only had a phone number and one name.

_Persephone_

She knew Joffrey too well. She had his interest and supplied enough to intrigue him to contact her. Perhaps she really could pull this off after all. If she got him alone, it would be easy to poison him and run. No one knew who she was except a mysterious woman at the party with a stolen invitation if they even got that far.

Sansa smiled to herself and made her way through the crowd once more. She looked around and again there was no sign of Petyr. Maybe Lysa found him and was screaming at him again for avoiding her. Suddenly, a pair of hands held her upper arms from behind and the scent of whiskey, mint and a certain cologne made her heart stop. A voice dark and deadly as the devil himself whispered in her ear.

“What did I say would happen if you disobeyed me?”

 

* * *

 

  


 


	33. Lie To Me

 

Sansa could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and it ran chills down her spine. She didn’t need to speak for she knew the answer. The question was, would he really do it? He didn’t want to risk exposure in this little intrigue and here she was playing the game right in the middle of his club. If she had half a chance, Sansa knew she would have tried to poison that son of a bitch tonight.

“Where is it?” the voice demanded quietly in her ear.

How much did Petyr know or suspect? He wasn’t a stupid man and knew why she was here. She wasn’t sure which angered him more that she returned to kill Joffrey on her own or that she planned to do it on his premises.

“Give it to me now or I’ll strip you bare right here.”

The chill in his voice told her he would make good on that threat and Sansa turned to face him. He was dressed head to toe in black along with a mask that almost completely covered his head hiding his greying hair. Petyr was Mephistopheles personified as the dark cloak draped elegantly around his slim figure. Only his mouth was visible but she would know those piercing eyes anywhere.

Sansa smiled thinly as she weighed his threat. “And ruin everything when it’s coming along so well?” Denying anything would only make it worse for she knew Petyr well enough.

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. His hands returned to her arms and pulled her in close. “I’m not playing with you. If you think I won’t hand you over to him right now, you’re sorely mistaken. Give it to me. I will not ask you again.”

“That would make a dreadful scene, wouldn’t it? Everyone finding out my identity as I tell them you helped me all along. I highly doubt he’ll let you leave breathing,” she smiled. “Why don’t you go back to shagging Myranda? I’m sure she is thrilled to have you all to herself once again.”

His grip on her arms tightened and began to hurt but Sansa refused to let him see her wince in pain. She spied Lysa in the crowd not too far from them. “Ah, I do see your aging Goddess of Love searching for you. Perhaps I should get her attention?”

The pain lessened but he didn’t let go of her. “Come with me right now. I want to speak to you in private,” he spoke slowly and in control.

“No, I don’t think that is wise… well, not for me. I do have other pressing matters to attend to. Perhaps some other time,” she said trying to maintain composure. Sansa had never been so grateful for a large crowd than right now. She knew he couldn’t risk it and make a scene. Whatever it was he had planned, she could easily ruin it right now and they both knew it.

Petyr let go of her arm and leaned into her ear. “You have no idea what you are getting into, sweetling. I’m warning you for the last time; leave Kings Landing if you know what’s good for you.”

“And  _you_  know what is good for me, do you?” she sneered remembering the way he dumped her at the pier that morning.

“Oh little girl, I’ve been playing this game much longer than you. You haven’t the vaguest clue what I am capable of,” he grinned wickedly. “Now get the fuck out of here or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

He was letting her go and Sansa couldn’t help but wonder why. All she knew was that she needed to get out of here immediately. She had already planted the seeds with Joffrey and that’s what she needed to worry about. There was no reason to come back here or deal with Petyr again. If Joffrey didn’t contact her, she would find another way. She knew where he tended to hang out and who his friends were. She didn’t need Petyr anymore. Better yet, she had his money instead to help her. She had to stay away from him from now on. He didn’t out her just now in fear of exposing himself, she rationalized. If she avoided him and didn’t meddle in his affairs, she could continue on with her own plans. As angry as she was at him, fucking Petyr over with the Syndicate didn’t help her agenda and he would most likely kill her. No, her goal was Joffrey and that’s all that mattered.

Sansa made her way to the front of the club and willed herself not to look back at him to see if he followed or not. The security didn’t bat an eyelash and Sansa knew they hadn’t been informed that she was an imposter. She asked for the valet to bring her car around and waited impatiently. Brian approached her and she couldn’t see Thomas anywhere.

“Anything wrong, Mrs. Martell?” he asked sincerely.

 _Keep up appearances_ , Sansa told herself.  _The game isn’t over._

“Not my kind of scene. I’m going to meet my husband elsewhere. Fucking Lannisters and their cliché and  _boring_  parties… I should have known better,” she drawled and handed him a few notes. “Petyr is losing his touch…”

Just then the Jag pulled up and Sansa had to restrain a sigh of relief. She gave the boy another tip has he helped her into her car before pulling out into the street. It was a block away when she finally took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“FUCK!” she screamed as she drove. 

God, that was too close for comfort. It could have all gone downhill in a blink of an eye. Petyr knew she was here and Sansa wasn’t sure how everything was going to play out now. Damnit, she should have poisoned that fucker tonight. She got lost in playing the game and being too smug with her skills with Joffrey. She wanted to seduce him and gain his interest. Killing him too quickly and anonymously wouldn’t do. She wanted him to know it was her that turned the tables on him. Now, it may have cost her because Petyr was right. She didn’ know what he was fully capable of or if he would try to thwart her own plans to kill Joffrey if it messed with his own.

Sansa looked in the rearview mirror and couldn’t see anyone following her. She laughed bitterly as if she would know if someone was tailing her. Paranoia set in, and she continued to look in the mirror as she drove around the city. After an hour, she made her way back to the hotel feeling that she didn’t have full control of what was going to happen next.

She left her mask on as she entered the lobby knowing there were cameras and kept a cool poise as she made her way to the lifts. Sansa was almost to the safety of her suite where she could regroup and wait to see what Joffrey did. The doors opened and her instinct was to be wary. No one knew where she was but she couldn’t underestimate Petyr in the slightest. She peered into the hallway only to find it empty. Sansa laughed at herself, she was getting too paranoid. She walked to her suite and opened the door into the dark room.

Sansa closed the door and that familiar voice chuckled behind her making her scream. She turned to find Petyr relaxing on the sofa as the lights of the city illuminated his shadow from the open balcony.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to get here,” the man laughed with his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa and his feet resting on the coffee table.

Sansa flicked on the lights and was beyond angry. It wasn’t even a question of how he found her but that he was here waiting. This smug bastard was relaxing back and even poured himself a drink.

“Get out. I’m in no mood for your games,” she spat.

“Oh sweetling, I’m not playing. You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” he grinned.

Sansa walked to the bar and poured herself a vodka red bull and turned around leaning against the marble counter.

“So what is this? Are you here to kill me?” she smirked before sipping her cocktail.

“I don’t see the point. Joffrey is going to do that soon enough,” he said grimly.

“So, have you been on the side of the Lannisters from the beginning or is this a new development?” she said not letting him take control of the conversation. She casually looked around the room seeing his cloak draped over a chair with his mask. So, he arrived in costume. He didn’t want anyone to recognize him either it seemed.

“If you’re looking for the gun, I have already unloaded it. A sweet girl such as you shouldn’t have something so dangerous. Someone might get hurt,” he smiled. Sansa wanted to slap that grin off his face but continued to sip her drink trying to appear unaffected.

“Cut the shite, Petyr. What do you want?” she asked calmly.

“You’re checking out tonight and leaving on the first flight out of Kings Landing,” he replied matter of factly and it infuriated her.

“I think not. What makes you think I would do anything you say?” she smiled thinly. Sansa wanted to keep the distance between them even though every fiber of her being wanted to flog him.

“Well, if you’re intent on dying, that’s your business. However, you fucking up _my_ business is something else entirely,” he spoke while toying with her gun.

“Forgive me if I don’t give a fuck about you and your pathetic business,” she retorted. “Go and inform the Lannisters if that is what you’re threatening. I will find another way to get to him. If you’re going to kill me, then get on with it. If not, I’ll ask you to get the fuck out of my hotel room before I call security and have you thrown out.”

Petyr’s laughter filled the room as she walked to the door. “Oh, you sweet, innocent thing. How do you think I got here?” he chuckled leaving the comfort of the sofa and moving towards her slowly. Sansa’s heart began to race and wasn’t sure what he was going to do next.

“Now, as I said, you have put a wrench in my plans by showing up tonight. I told you to never disobey me and yet here we are…,” he drawled menacingly.

Instinct kicked in and Sansa went to open the door only to have it slammed shut barely missing her fingers. Petyr whipped her around and pushed her up against the door. She could see the sheen of gunmetal in his hand and real fear coursed through her.

“Turning you into the Lannisters doesn’t serve me as you might think. Killing you right now… brings attention that I’d just assume avoid at the moment. Which leaves me option number three,” and he smiled. She could smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with that always-lingering hint of mint and waited for him to continue.

Petyr lifted the gun and pointed it away from them pulling the trigger. Nothing but a sharp click signaled there were no bullets in the clip. He wasn’t going to kill her but that wicked smile of his meant nothing but trouble.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Sansa,” he whispered ominously as he leaned into her ear. “… and you need to be punished.” 

His lips ghosted along her jaw until they were only centimeters from her mouth. This fucker had some nerve. Did he really think that she would let him touch her after all that had happened between them? She didn’t think for one moment that he meant to hurt her because his entire body language screamed seduction and she wanted to knee him in the stones.

“Fuck you…” she hissed and in return, he smiled.

“I’m so glad we’re thinking the same thing…” he smirked and tossed the harmless weapon on the floor with a thud before kissing her thoroughly. She squirmed and pushed at him only to have her arms pinned behind her back with one of his strong hands. Sansa tried to bring her knee up but he blocked her effortlessly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… that’s very unsportsmanlike.”

“Let go of me,” she spat as she continued to struggle.

“I see. It’s only been a few days and you’re already smitten with your new benefactor, eh? Has Oberyn shared you with Ellaria yet or was that not part of the bargain? I do say the man has stones to make his wife a target with that invitation,” he sneered. “Or perhaps he likes you enough to make you his permanent mistress?”

Sansa’s eyes flared at his implication. “Jealous that he’s a better lover than you could ever be? I suppose Myranda and Lysa like that limp cock of yours but Oberyn can fuck me all night without breaking a sweat,” she teased maliciously and then grinned seeing his eyes narrow a bit. “Yeah, do you want to know how many times he made me come? How I screamed his name over and over…”

Something changed and his eyes darkened and Sansa felt his hand tighten on her wrists. Those hungry eyes studied her as they followed his free hand travel from her shoulder to the curve of her breast. His eyes slowly rose to meet hers and a wicked grin spread across his mouth.

“You are a terrible liar, sweetling. But I’ll give you a chance to prove me wrong. If you succeed, I’ll leave you to your devices. However, if I win, you will leave Kings Landing tomorrow. Do we have a deal?”

Sansa watched him carefully. How could she ever trust a word that came out of his mouth after everything? “On your word, you will let me go if I lie convincingly to you?” she asked suspiciously. Petyr nodded and waited for her decision. “And if I don’t wish to play this little game of yours?”

“Then you leave me no choice but to kill you or FedEx you, fully drugged, back to Dorne. I’m giving you a chance to show off your new skills of deception before Joffrey slits your throat. Convince me and I’ll let you happily go kill him.”

Sansa couldn’t fathom what was ticking in that evil mind of his. She wasn’t getting out of this room without Petyr letting her go either way.

“What exactly am I supposed to convince you of?” she asked sceptically.

Petyr smiled and whispered, “That you don't want me.”

“Wha-“ The question died as his took her mouth completely. He kissed her hard swallowing her protests. God, his mouth was enticing and Sansa hated that she liked the way he kissed. His body pressed against her and she could feel every angle of him. He pushed himself between her legs to keep her from kneeing him as he devoured her open mouth.

Those sinful lips trailed across her jaw and suckled a point under her ear. “Do you want me, sweetling?”

Sansa tried to sound a convincing "no", but it came out as more of a squeak.

“Hmm… I’m not quite sure I believe you. Let’s make this more interesting a wager.” His hand caressed her breast dipping inside the bodice and feeling a hardening nipple. God damn her body for betraying her. Right when she thought he would continue, Petyr pulled his hand away only to find it holding the vial she had tucked away. “A lovely and delectable hiding place, I must say.” He tossed the vial on the floor and his hand made its way inside the slit of her skirt along her exposed thigh moving higher. “ _This_  is what I trust,” he smiled as he went back to sucking on her neck. Sansa tried to close her thighs but he held them apart with his own. Those tantalizing fingers traced along her inner thigh so close to the edge of her knickers. Sansa could feel how hard he was already as he lightly rocked his hips into hers. “If these aren’t wet,  _then_  I’ll be convinced…”

He didn’t touch her there but teased her by barely grazing around her apex. The delicate skin on her inner thigh was so sensitive to those roaming fingers as his mouth found every pulse point and manipulated it to the point of making her want to moan. Sansa bit her lip and stifled it. She would not let him seduce her. She trudged up every hateful thought and emotion to steel her mind away from the way he made her body quiver to his touch.

“I was so proud of you tonight,” he said as his tongue teased the swell of her breast. “The way you handled Joffrey. I watched you play him like a fiddle. I watched as every man in that room looked at you with lust in their eyes. They would die to succumb to the charms of such a dark and mysterious goddess.” A finger traced along the edge of her knickers and she felt herself tremble. “But you wouldn’t let one of them touch you, for you know whom you belong to.” She was breathless at the way he slowly teased without touching her where she was craving it against all better judgment. Petyr had some twisted power over her that she hated. He drove her mad with lust. Even though she loathed him for what he was and what he did to her, she still desired him. He was pure sin and like Eve, that snake whispered in her ear to take a bite of the forbidden fruit once more. “Persephone ate the seeds of the pomegranate and forever bound herself to her dark lord.”

Petyr nipped at her breast and suddenly those fingers dragged along the lace covering her apex. Sansa was taken back to that day in the store dressing room when he barely grazed her there. How long ago it seemed to her now. How much had changed between them and yet everything was still the same. This lust was all-consuming and her body surrendered to his ministrations. Sansa never wanted a man in her life the way she wanted Petyr. She hated him, feared him and yet desired him completely.

“Oh yes… here is my answer,” his mischievous voice uttered softly. Her knickers were soaked through and they both knew it. Those digits slid inside and against her soft flesh making her hips writhe against her will. “Baby, why do you fight it?”

“Because I hate you,” she seethed.

“Hate… love… lust. All just slight variations of the same emotion depending on what triggers it,” he stated as he worked a finger inside her and Sansa bit her lip so hard it bled. “I think lust and hate make for great sex, but that’s just my opinion.”

Sansa was so worried she was going to come that she tried to appease his ego. “You proved your point. I can’t lie for shite. Now stop this stupid game and I’ll leave in the morning.”

But he didn’t stop and grinned at her wickedly, “Now that would be very rude of me to leave you in such of state of wanting. I can feel how badly you need it. Did you really miss me that much?”

“No.”

“Liar,” he smiled. “You really are not good at this game, sweetling. I know you never fucked Martell because you are dripping wet with desire. If you had been properly shagged and as often as you say, you certainly wouldn’t have let me get this far.” Petyr worked her a little harder and sucked on her earlobe. “You need to come, don’t you?”

“Go to hell… “ she said through gritted teeth.

“I did say you needed to be punished didn’t I? Bad girls don’t get to come. They have to beg.” Petyr pulled his fingers away and tasted his index finger. “Dear God, you taste good.”

“If you want me to beg, you’ll be waiting for an eternity,” she glared at him but at the same time, she felt empty and couldn’t deny she wanted to fuck him right now.

Petyr chuckled and tore away part of her skirt with that free hand until a long strip of silk met her wrists. Sansa’s eyes widened and she struggled against him as he bound her hands together with the soft fabric. Maybe he was finished with her after all, she wondered as he tested the tension of the silk.

“What the hell are you doing?” she spat as she tried to pull her hands free unsuccessfully.

“I’m going to make you beg if it takes me all night,” Petyr teased.

Fine, if he wanted to play this game, she would let him have it. “Ha! We both know you can’t go all night. I do remember you saying I exhausted you. So, unless you took some Viagra, I doubt it, then we should be in for a very short session.”

She heard the silk rip and felt the cool air hit her hips. The slit of the skirt had torn all the way to her ribcage and her knickers were tugged down her long legs. Petyr didn’t unbuckle his trousers but knelt down and hooked her leg over his shoulder. Sansa thought this would be a perfect opportunity to kick him in the head until his mouth enveloped her and all thoughts turned to mush. She was already swollen and sensitive and he didn’t go gentle. He devoured her like a starved man. God, she loved this lustful side to him. Why couldn’t he just be a normal man, with a normal job that she could come home to every night and fuck like wild animals?

_Because he isn’t normal. That’s what you like about him._

_No, I hate him. He is a dangerous and selfish bastard. I hate him_.

His tongue worked her hard and Sansa’s eyes practically rolled into the back of her head. God, she had nothing to hold on to with her hands bound and pushed against the wall. Her standing leg was shaking as she unconsciously bucked against his mouth. She could feel it, she was almost there. His hands held her up as his mouth gave her such pleasure. Dear God, he was good. She was so close when he abruptly stopped and watched her with amusement in his eyes.

_This son of a bitch!_

Petyr stood up and held her waist as her eyes glared at him in hate. “I’ve missed that sweet taste for days on end,” he whispered against her lips. “Open your mouth to me. Taste how wanton you are right now. Why deny what you really want?”

“What I want is to beat the shite out of you right now." 

He chuckled as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue. “It’s a good thing I tied your hands, isn’t it? As much as I love you pulling my hair as I eat your pussy, I really don’t want to get hit with a blunt object when I’m trying to give you pleasure.”

“I don’t want you, so you’re wasting your time,” she lied. Whatever this was between them was too addictive to give up just yet. Sansa was morbidly curious about what was next. She mentally berated herself for being weak, but she was aching so bad it didn’t matter. Rational thought was telling her that if Petyr was going to hurt her, he would have done it long before now. He was just as aroused as she was. This crazy lust they had for each other was like a drug and they needed more of it.

Petyr lifted her up with ease against the wall and forced her to wrap her legs around his small waist. He rocked into her but not hard enough to hurt her arms behind her back. The soft fabric of his trouser rubbed against her bare skin. She could feel his hardness press her nub and soon enough she was on fire again.

He carried her the short distance to the bedroom and sat her down on the bed before leaving to the kitchen. After a few moments, he returned with a knife and Sansa didn’t know what to do. She tried to scoot back when he told her to hush.

“If I were going to kill you, I’d at least give you a painless death, my dear. Hold still,” he commanded. 

There wasn’t much left to the dress as he cut the remainder of it away leaving her in just a strapless black lacy corset and the jeweled mask. His eyes raked her body in hunger and began to unbutton his black dress shirt. A minute later his trousers followed suit and his hard cock strained against his briefs.

“What does my girl want?” he breathed.

_You know I want you, you asshole._

Sansa’s pride won out and she kept silent. She would not yield to him.

“Stubborn and willful woman…” he shook his head and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed.

Sansa watched as he removed the last of his clothing and bent over her pushing her to lay back. Her arms were once again pinned beneath her but he didn’t apply painful pressure. No, instead he pulled her hips up and opened her thighs to him. Petyr bent over and kissed her softly as his hips rocked against hers. He didn’t enter her and Sansa was frustrated on why he waited. He teased and teased as he kissed her roughly but refused to give her what she wanted. He wanted it too but he was holding off until she begged him.

His name escaped her lips and immediately she tried to recover from the mistake.

“Yes, love? Are you going to tell me what you want now?” he purred as he pressed against that bundle of nerves.

Sansa racked her brain for any excuse. “My arms hurt,” she lied. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, they were getting a little sore from the position she was in. Petyr pulled back and flipped her over onto her stomach instead of untying her. He lifted her hips and pushed her further up the mattress until he was directly behind her on his knees. Her head and chest rested on the soft, cool sheets and felt his hands raise her hips up.

He caressed her spine and unlaced her corset letting it fall down. Petyr ran his hand under her bound arms dragging his fingers down to her tailbone. Those same digits dipped down and inside her slowly pumping. She could feel his hard cock resting above her bum as he fingered her and brought his other hand around to play with her nub. Before long she was rearing against him, her body begging for release but her voice refused to answer.

Once again he had her on the brink and stopped all together making her whimper in agony. Dear God, she needed it and needed it badly. Sansa wanted him inside her and finally her voice sounded the plea her body was dying for.

“Sorry, sweetling, I didn’t catch that,” she heard the smugness in his voice and she didn’t care anymore. All she knew was that she wanted him and only him.

“Please,” she whispered again.

She knew he was smiling, the son of a bitch, even as she pressed her bum against him.

“Tell me what you want or you get nothing,” he teased.

“God damnit, Petyr, just fuck me,” she demanded in irritation.

“Anything for my sweet femme fatale,” his voice dripped with sin.

She could feel him rubbing his cock along her slit, wetting him and Sansa was rigid with anticipation. His hands returned to her hips as he pushed inside with a deep groan. He was thick and heavy as he stretched her until she felt her backside pressed firmly against his hips. He was slow and controlled and at this angle, he was deep inside her. Petyr took his time guiding her hips to meet his relishing every sensation. She could feel her walls clenching him but his pace was too slow. She thrust back against him hard telling him what she wanted but he ignored her demands. She felt his hands grab her waist as he started to move deeper. Her fingers grazed his as her bound hands arched back to touch him. God, she could feel every inch of him but needed more.

“Petyr, untie me, please,” and she couldn’t disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without a word, he made quick work of her silk bonds finally freeing her hands to the bed. Sansa pushed herself up and pulled forward feeling him slip out of her before she turned around to face him. His eyes were glazed a bit in confusion and a hint of distrust as he watched her. Suddenly she slapped him hard across the cheek and all at once her rage came rushing forward as she tried to hit him again and again. He grabbed her wrists and held tightly bringing her body flush against him.

“I hate you, I hate you!” she yelled at him.

Petyr pushed her down on her back pinning her wrists to the bed to stop her flailing. She was acutely aware of his hard body on hers and the light brushing of their burning sexes.

“Good, you  _should_  hate me,” he mustered with a groan as her hips rocked against his. The head of his cock was so close to her entrance that only a slight movement and he would be back inside her again. Sansa was fueled with hate and lust and seeing him above her with hunger in his eyes was too much. It wasn’t just that they needed this, they both wanted it desperately.

Sansa arched her pelvis up grazing him as her eyes never left his. “Fuck me, Petyr,” she demanded with force and his eyes lit up with a wild lust.

Immediately he let go of her wrists and yanked her hips up as he plunged into her hard. His face was full of determination as he gave it to her. He knew she liked it rough but only with him. Sansa could not imagine letting go like this with any other man. With sex, she trusted him completely. He didn’t judge or shy away from taking things to another level. Petyr was always in control and when he fucked her like this is when he let that control and cool exterior slide. This was all about pleasing each other. Petyr was a generous lover for he didn’t just take his pleasure from her. He gave. Seeing the pleasure he offered to her only seemed to heighten his own. He liked watching her come undone, she decided. He liked it when she talked dirty back to him and fucked him back.

She was moaning deeply now and started bucking against him trying to get more friction. She wanted him to let go and really give it to her but he was still holding back.

“Please… I need you. Fuck me harder,” she begged.

He lowered himself and ravaged her mouth while his hips didn’t miss a beat. His hands tilted her hips pulling them up roughly as his mouth swallowed her moans. The light hair on his stomach and chest tickled slightly as his body pressed hers down. Sansa wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into his hamstrings.

“Tell me you belong to me,” he groaned harshly in between thrusts.

Sansa was so lost in sensation she almost didn’t hear him. She was so fucking close and afraid he would stop if she didn’t answer him but couldn’t say it. She didn’t belong to anyone and especially not any man.

Petyr slipped his arm under her leg hiking it up. He ground in deep and she cried out in pleasure. Fucking hell, he was a good lover. Sansa never believed she could be this wild and dirty with a man. Petyr was older and more experienced and knew how to please a woman.

“Ah yes, you don’t want anyone but me, do you? No one else can make you want to fuck like this except me.” This evil man fucked her rougher and every nerve ending was on fire. She was completely wanton and didn’t care. She kissed him hard and her breath was lost with his. “Oh, you are my bad girl. Show me how much you want it.”

She thrust against him and each time their pelvic bones hit, it struck that bundle of nerves and she felt her body convulse. “Oh my god,” she breathed. She could feel her toes curl as he slammed into her.

“That’s it, baby. Tell me you’re mine or I won’t let you come,” he threatened.

This bastard. He  _would_  make her beg and plead for him. Couldn’t he just be satisfied that they were both fucking each other’s brains out right now?

“God damnit, yes… allright? I’m yours… just don’t stop, I’m so close. Please,” she pleaded.

“Oh no, that won’t do. You have to mean it,” he teased and started to slow down.

It wasn’t really a lie but an admission she didn’t want to make. She did belong to him in a strange way. Only he brought out this side of her that she was craving more and more every day. Sansa had felt more alive in the past few weeks than in her whole life. It was everything and nothing in particular. There was a fire inside her when she was with Petyr. She didn’t want any other man. She was most likely going to get killed in this game of hers and might as well enjoy one more night with him. This time she wasn’t deluded by romanticism. She knew what this was. It was all about power and he wanted it badly.

Sansa used all her strength and flipped them over until she was straddling him. She was tired of being the toy he played with. She was no longer shy in taking control. Last time she didn’t quite know how to use this position but now, having him beneath her and under her control was quite arousing. Sansa smiled and reached behind her lightly stroking him and heard him groan softly.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… that won’t do,” she smirked using his words against him and a feeling of boldness came over her.  “If daddy wants his bad girl so desperately, he’s going to have to …  _beg_   _for it._ ” Sansa grasped him firmly making him hiss. His hands clenched her thighs and she was beginning to like having this power over him. He was here after all. He wanted her and the thought of teasing him set her on fire.

Whatever happened tomorrow was a different game. Tonight, they both wanted this and each other and she was determined to break him just this once. She took off the mask but the lace was still on her face partially covering her eyes and an idea came to mind. She saw the strip of silk he used to tie her hands and reached for it.

“I hear men are visual creatures… well, I would much rather watch you but not the other way around,” she grinned wickedly.

Surprisingly, he didn’t object or try to stop her as she tied the silk around his head covering his eyes. “You think this will make me beg, do you?” he chuckled deeply.

“Believe me, I’d love to bind your hands but I’d much rather feel them touching me instead. If you don’t play nice, I’ll gag you too,” she threatened and seeing him blindfolded was electrifying. She could get into this kind of role-play with a man like him.

“Now, where was I?” Sansa leaned over him until her mouth was so close to his and waited patiently. His hands massaged her thighs and she didn’t move a muscle. Their breath mingled as she hovered curiously watching him. He raised his head up searching for her mouth and she pulled back a few inches. “Did I say you could kiss me?” That seductive mouth of his smiled but didn’t utter a word.

Petyr was just as stubborn as she was, he wasn’t about to give in. “Now a lovely mouth such as this is only good for two things right now, but you don’t deserve either of them.” she grinned . Hands drifted up her thighs to her bum and Sansa swatted them away. “Bad boys that don’t obey will get nothing.”

Sansa reached to her apex and coated her fingers. Fucking hell, she was turned on right now but needed to keep control for just a little while longer. Her finger traced his bottom lip and she could tell that he caught her scent. “Open your mouth,” she breathed.

Petyr’s tongue swirled and suckled her index finger as soft lips closed around it. Her middle finger joined in as she slowly pumped the digits in his mouth. She felt his hips mirror the movement but didn’t allow him to touch her yet. She kissed along his jaw and found a pulse point under his ear. This was a sweet spot that drove her mad and wondered if it was the same for him. His hands returned and she swatted them away a second time. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the mattress as he had done with her minutes earlier.

“You don’t mind very well, do you?” she asked as she attacked his neck with vigor before returning to his mouth and kissed him roughly. She rocked her body hard against his that earned a harsh groan from him. God, she didn’t know how much longer  _she_  could wait as he kissed her back feeling his hardness brushing against her inner thigh.

She kissed down his chest allowing her sex to rub him. He was trying desperately to gain some friction but she denied him hearing him curse under his breath. “Ah, you want to touch me, don’t you baby?” She rose back to sitting on his abdomen and reached behind her once again to stroke him tightly. He was pulsing in her hand and suddenly his fingers were attacking her core. “What does daddy want?” she asked sweetly and for some reason, she liked calling him that. She never thought she would be into that kind of kink but Petyr was twice her age and it just seemed to fit. She didn’t feel embarrassed with him and vaguely wondered what else he might be in to. God, she wished she could find out but this was not meant to be.

“To fuck you…” the tortured voice moaned out.

“Not good enough.” She raised her hips to let the tip of him just barely touch her entrance. His hips tilted up and she let just the crown sink in. Petyr’s head fell back and he cursed again in frustration. She placed her hands on his chest and lowered herself down little by little. “How badly do you want me?” she purred.

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman… you’re killing me,” his voice strangled out as his hands tried to force her hips down unsuccessfully. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“Is this what you want?” and no sooner had the words left her mouth she slammed down hard on him making him cry out in ecstasy.

“Fuck yes…” he growled as he was buried to the hilt inside her. Sansa didn’t waste any time for her need was just as hungry as his. She fucked him hard and fast and listened in a trance as he called out to her. His hand returned to where they were joined as the other tore the silk from his face.

She loved watching the way his face changed from fascination to arousal and then wild lust. His eyes were black and filled with concentration watching her above him. His hips were thrusting up harder and faster as that wonderful pressure came barreling forward and there was no controlling it. The first wave hit hard and she fell onto him searching for anything to hold. She didn’t even have time to scream for he wasn’t stopping and his hands grabbed her backside forcing the rough joining. He flipped her over and hooked her knees over his forearms giving him complete control.

“Oh yes, my bad girl likes this, doesn’t she?” he had effectively turned the tables and she loved every second of it. She liked his aggressive style and leaned up to kiss him hard. “I’m going to make you come again.” He grunted in effort as he fucked her. “You are mine, do you hear me?  _Mine_ …”

She cried out as another wave crashed into her and yet he still pushed on as her nails clawed his back. She couldn’t take anymore as her body shook in overstimulation. He kissed her roughly as he quickened to a frantic pace that told her he was close. “Again… come for me again.”

Was he mad? Their bodies were slick with sweat and she couldn’t believe he was still going. “I can’t…” she whimpered in truth but he was having none of it.

“You can and you will…” he demanded. “Look at me.”

Sansa could not have looked away if she tried. Looking into his dark eyes was intense as he made her body quake and felt him follow her. His face contorted as he cried out her name and spent himself inside her.

His warm body draped over hers while they frantically tried to catch their breaths. Sansa thought she could die right now. Nothing had ever felt so goddamned good and wrong at the same time. His hair was damp as she ran her fingers through it feeling his harsh breathing against her neck. They were both exhausted to the point of passing out. Sansa felt her heart begin to settle down when he raised himself up on one elbow and gazed at her with a sad expression.

Fingers gently moved the damp strands of hair away and one by one peeled off the lace appliques from around the orbits of her eyes. There was a mixture of adoration, confusion and something else behind his eyes. Petyr sighed deeply and dipped his head into the curve of her neck.

“Dear God, woman… what am I going to do with you?”

It was a loaded question that he didn’t seem to have an answer for anymore. So instead, Sansa supplied it.

“Don’t send me away,” she whispered. He was vulnerable right now, she could tell. The truth was she didn’t want to be alone either and she wanted to stay with him. As much as she would love to run away with him, Sansa knew that was a fantasy. He wasn’t leaving Kings Landing and everything he worked for. Not even for her if she asked him. And Sansa wasn’t letting Joffrey go. Even letting Petyr do it was out of the question. No, he had to die by her hand.

“You  _can’t_  stay here,” he said muffled by her neck.

“Petyr, please. I can’t let this go. Please, I’ll do as you say, I will,” she pleaded hoping it would bring him around.

Petyr lifted his head and tired eyes studied her for a long time. She could see his mind working and all she could do was wait. There was something in the way he looked at her that she couldn’t quite place but when he sighed, she held her breath.

“I’m going to live to regret this…”

Sansa knew she had won and willed herself not to smile in victory. He was lost in thought again and she didn’t want to seem too eager so she waited patiently for him to say anything.

“You will check out in the morning,” he pressed a finger to her lips at her weak protest. “…and drive to the club. I will work out a plan if he calls you and wants to meet since you completely ruined my original strategy with this little performance tonight, and a contingency if he doesn’t.”

Sansa leaned up and kissed him tenderly. “Thank you,” she said with full sincerity.

“Don’t thank me, sweetling,” he spoke with sadness. “This isn’t something I want gratitude for.”

Petyr pulled a pillow from the edge of the bed and tucked it under his head. He was going to stay it seemed and a part of Sansa was giddy at that notion. She thought for certain that after shagging that he would just leave, that is if he didn’t kill her. Now, she knew he had reluctantly decided to help her. Maybe he knew even if he sent her away she would still come back and perhaps just letting her stay would be less of a hassle.

Sansa found the sheet and pulled it up to cover them as Petyr closed the distance and spooned her against him. He draped his arm around her waist and held her close. Sometimes he had a tenderness that came through that cold exterior of his. Petyr’s breathing eventually slowed in rhythm and Sansa knew he was asleep. He was confident that she wouldn’t kill him in his sleep with a knife and poison nearby, she mused. That overconfidence would probably get him killed someday.

The smile faded on her face as she gave thought to her own mortality. She very well could get killed in this endeavor too. Perhaps that was why she thought nothing about having unprotected sex with him. She was going to die anyway, so why would it matter?

That soreness was between her legs with a mixture of both their essences. The room smelled of sex and the feel of his arm around her was a small comfort.

Sansa began to drift off with the confidence that he wouldn’t kill her in her sleep or that she would wake up on a plane. She would use Petyr for the last time and maybe live to regret it.

 

 

 


	34. Addiction

 

 

Sansa woke to the scent of fresh coffee brewing and she couldn’t stop the smile on her face. He was still here. Petyr had not left her. Sansa rolled over and could see him tinkering with a room service table laden with what looked like breakfast.

“I’m starving, how about you?” he asked with a grin.

Sansa stretched out like a cat and the sheet barely covered her. Petyr’s eyes raked the length of her and this time it didn’t make her blush. She stared right back at him. God, she wanted him again. He looked so incredibly delicious in just a bathrobe.

“Famished… but not for breakfast,” she smiled seductively.

Petyr poured a cup of coffee from the french press and chuckled deeply, “You are insatiable sweetling.”

She pulled the sheet around her and strutted over to him as he sat down in the plush chair next to the room service table. Sansa straddled his lap and took the cup of coffee from his hand taking a sip.

“What is the matter? Not  _up_  for the challenge?” she whispered sitting a little more firmly upon him.

“Dear God, girl,” he grunted softly.

Sansa set his coffee down and leaned into his chest. “There is no God…” She kissed him deeply until he responded and felt his hands press against her low back. “You are my religion.” Sansa untied his robe and his hands sifted through the sheet until their skin touched. He was more than ready for her and Sansa rose up only to sink down on him slowly making them both gasp.

It was slow the way his hands guided her hips and he kissed her with a gentle passion as they moved together. Not a word was spoken only the sharp breathing as their mouths tasted each other. His eyes watched with lazy fascination and Sansa couldn’t look away from him. It wasn’t rough or fast. It was just them together. Soft moans mixed with kisses as she moved on top of him and felt it building quickly.

Sansa was so lost in it all that she began to shake in his arms. Petyr kissed her deeply and she could feel him follow her into that bliss. His head rested on the back of the chair as eyes stared into her soul. She looked down at him and knew she would follow him anywhere. Sansa couldn’t imagine feeling this way for another man. She wanted to possess everything about him.

All these feelings were why she needed to get away from him. Petyr clouded her judgment and goals. She needed to remember that he left her in Dorne and wasn’t about to come back for her. He only came here last night because he wanted her to leave Kings Landing. Even now, Sansa wasn’t completely sure he was going to help her. He could still be lying. But the way he held her now… she couldn’t know for sure. Sansa couldn’t take any chances. Petyr was always full of surprises and usually not in her favour.

“Still think I can’t seduce him?” she teased.

“I think… you can do anything that you’ve set your stubborn mind to,” Petyr taunted back.

Sansa smiled and gently moved off him. “I need a shower. Save some breakfast for me,” she said before wrapping the sheet around her again and left him sprawled out on the chair.

The hot water felt amazing and yet she had butterflies in her stomach. Sansa was scared that when she walked out of the bathroom that Petyr would have all her bags packed and this time he wouldn’t leave her on the pier but send her to the airport.

Sansa walked out in her bathrobe and she released the breath she was holding. Petyr was in the same chair but now fully dressed, reading the paper while drinking his coffee and eating a croissant. She sat near him and took the warming plate off her now cooling breakfast.

“So what is on the docket for today?” she asked taking a bite of her blueberry muffin.

“Get you checked out and moved back over to the club. Then we wait for Joffrey to call. That is if you tempted him enough last night,” he mused.

Sansa swallowed hard. “The club? Wouldn’t your house be safer? What about Myranda and Olyvar?”

“The club is safe now. Olyvar doesn’t get involved in my personal business and Myranda won’t be a problem anymore,” he stated as if he were discussing weather.

The way he talked about Myranda sent a shiver through her. In only a moment, that bliss and tenderness she felt disappeared with a harsh reminder of what Petyr was. Perhaps it was Myranda after all and not Lysa. Petyr had a few days to sort things out while Sansa was still in Dorne feeling sorry for herself.

She didn’t want to know about Myranda and thought it was best not to ask. “And if Joffrey doesn’t call?” she wondered.

“He will.”

“Are you so certain? You don’t know,” she tossed back at him lightly.

“I know his kind,” he stated matter of factly.

Sansa let it go and decided it was better to have him think he was in complete control. She could play this game too. She seduced him last night and this morning. Petyr was ready to ship her off but now it really seemed like he was going to do what he promised her that first night so long ago.

She ate the remainder of her breakfast in silence as he read his paper. If felt so strange how they could just sit together quietly as if they were a normal couple just having a simple breakfast. Even when she started to get dressed, she didn’t feel embarrassed at all in front of him as she once was only a week ago.

Sansa threw the ruined dress in her luggage and smiled faintly. She could only imagine the poor maid coming in and finding that on a rumpled bed. The bag that had her money, or Petyr’s money, was ready to go. She wondered briefly if he had looked through her things while she was asleep. Nothing seemed amiss and she saw not only her gun but the vial of poison waiting for her on the marble counter. Sansa checked the gun and it was fully loaded. She looked at Petyr and he was busy gathering his things. Did he really trust her now?

Stowing away her two deadly possessions, Sansa approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist. He gently rubbed her hands before turning around. “I’m heading to the club now. Meet me there. Use the garage. The code is 6299. The others haven't changed,” he smiled and kissed her forehead.

Maybe he did trust her. Sansa knew it would look strange to have him with her as she checked out. He was keeping a low profile and best not seen with the mysterious Dornish woman. Sansa bet he was taking a back way out of the hotel to avoid being seen.

Sansa checked out and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Her bags and car were brought around and in that time she kept checking her phone expecting him or Joffrey. Hell, she didn’t know what to expect right now. Scanning through her phone, Sansa noticed that Petyr had logged her back into the Mockingbird’s system. Since he left her in Dorne, she didn’t have access to any of the club’s data. She was able to make calls and text but that was it.

Myranda’s contact information was still listed and Sansa had a sinking feeling that she met a nasty fate. Petyr was quite nonchalant about it but his undertone made her feel that he knew Myranda was responsible. He clearly did not care about her. So if Myranda was nothing to him and he easily rid himself of this woman because he didn’t care… Sansa’s mind was restless. Petyr did care about Sansa, Alayne, whatever her name would be. If he didn’t she wouldn’t be here right now. He wouldn’t have even left her in Dorne with money if he felt nothing.

The valet helped her into her car and Sansa sat for a moment in thought. She could still leave right now. She had the money, Petyr wouldn’t come after her, no one knew who she was… she could still get out now. Sansa put the car into drive and made her choice as she drove towards the Mockingbird.

The garage opened and she could see Petyr’s Jag parked and Sansa laughed to herself. The cars were so similar it was almost like  _His and Hers._ She grabbed her heavy bags and walked in. Petyr was nowhere to be seen and she saw the service lift. It would be faster to take that upstairs than the main lift in front. Sansa heaved her bags into the lift and selected the second floor. Peering into the hallway, she found it empty and the office door ajar. Sansa looked in the empty but softly lit room. He must have been here. The security feeds were on and his laptop was open on his desk. Scanning the cameras she saw him in the main room on the first floor. He was on his cellphone and pacing and it didn’t look good. Sansa decided to just take her things upstairs and then go see him.

She opened the apartment door and dropped her bags on the floor. The place was exactly as she left it. He hadn’t slept or spent any time here judging by the state of the room. The only thing strange was the secret door behind the painting was slightly open. Sansa waited a few minutes and finally, her curiosity got the better of her. Opening the door and stepping inside her eyes widened. Jesus, he had weapons, medicine, surgical equipment, jewels, money, bonds, files and files on important people.

Sansa leaned out the door to see if she was still alone and then started looking through his stash. Petyr was practically ready for a zombie apocalypse she laughed nervously. He probably wouldn’t be too happy about her snooping and her paranoia kept her ears perked for any sound. The files had information that he never let her see and Sansa’s eyes drank it in. He was in deeper than she thought. He had every little sordid detail on every single person in the Syndicate or associated with it. Medical records, drugs, criminal history, people’s entire lives… everything to blackmail and destroy them. She kept fingering past the numerous names until there was one file at the back without a name and Sansa pulled it out.

It was Petyr’s medical. He must have taken all his data from hospitals and such to keep his personal information safe. There were x-rays, doctors notes, medicine and… a police report. The dates went back decades and estimating Petyr’s age now, she guessed he must have been in his late teens or barely twenty. Multiple gunshots in the back and left for dead. Punctured lung and internal bleeding. God, it was pure luck he survived at all. One bullet missed his heart by inches. Scanning the records Sansa learned it took months for him to heal and then he was taken to prison. He was in for six months before release upon good behavior. Sansa bet the Syndicate got him out since he was already one of their henchmen by then.

_Why?_

Flipping through the papers, she saw a post-mortem of her Uncle Brandon. He shot Petyr before Petyr killed him, it read. Sansa seethed. She never knew her uncle but she knew how much her father loved him. Was this why her mother never spoke of Petyr? She had never heard of him until the night he saved her. He said they were childhood friends. Her mother was supposed to marry Brandon and when he died, she married her Ned, her father, instead. Did Petyr love her mother enough to kill for her? Sansa grabbed the file and marched downstairs to face the man.

The moment the doors opened Sansa stormed out only to join a raging fight that was already in progress. Lysa was screaming at Petyr by the bar. She had what looked like a file in her hand and waved it in front of him.

_Oh, fuck._

Suddenly her presence was noticed by both people and Lysa had a frightful grin on her face.

_She knows._

Sansa wasn’t sure what she expected but the sickly sweet tone of her aunt’s voice wasn’t it and it scared her frozen to the spot.

“Oh Sansa, it  _is_ you, isn’t it? Come here, my darling girl. Come to your aunt,” Lysa cooed and set the file down on the counter opening her arms wide.

Sansa looked to Petyr and his expression was unreadable. “Sweetheart, I know who you are. Don’t be scared. I’ve come to take you away from this… _from him._ You’ll be under my roof and protection,” she smiled but it wasn’t kind or honest. Sansa’s feet rooted into the floor, the file in her hand forgotten.

“Lysa…” Petyr’s tone warned.

“Shut up. I’m running this show. You thought I was stupid, didn’t you?” she spat viciously. “I knew something was wrong. I knew you fucked all these young girls but there was something about this one. I had my suspicions. I had one of Jon’s men look into her and guess what? Alayne Stone doesn’t exist.” Her aunt was smug in her straight posture but she was rambling quickly and Sansa wondered briefly if Lysa was slightly high. “… and then that night I saw the scar on her shoulder. This girl tried to lie and tell me it was stab wound… “ Sansa saw Petyr look at her and she couldn’t meet his icy gaze and closed her eyes. “… but then I went back the police and looked at the coroner’s records. _Gunshot_ to the left shoulder and head wound…. You would protect Cat’s girl, wouldn’t you? You sentimental bastard. Didn’t getting shot teach you anything?...”

“So what are you going to do? Take her in? Protect her against the Lannisters? Send her away?” Petyr retorted with cold sarcasm. He didn’t even bother to deny her identity. His eyes were cool and Sansa could see he was thinking very carefully.

“Oh I have something else in mind… but first things first.” Lysa marched over to Sansa and observed her. “Yes, I see it now. You have the look of her mother. The hair, makeup and glasses helped hide it but… you can’t hide from me. You look just like Cat at the same age.” It wasn’t complimentary the way she said it and suddenly Lysa pulled Sansa’s hair away from her forehead and her fingers traced the faint scar hidden by makeup.

“I fucking knew it,” she sneered. “Did he fuck you too? Are you just like your mum, a fucking slut?” Sansa was frightened and her voice didn’t make a sound. “Yes, he fucked you good didn’t he? Don’t look to him. He doesn’t give a shite about you, girl,” she raged when Sansa looked to Petyr for help. Lysa grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard, “Do you want to know why? Because you look like Cat and nothing more. He just wanted to fuck your mother, you stupid girl.”

Sansa yelped as Lysa dug her fingernails into her wrist and she dropped the file to the floor in an attempt to pull her aunt’s hand away. They both looked down and a wicked grin spread across Lysa’s face. “Oh, this couldn’t get any better. She knows already, Petyr. Do you see this?” she laughed.

“Do you see now, girl? Do you? That’s the kind of bitch your mother was! Petyr tried to save her life and what did she do? She shot him in the back and blamed him for Brandon’s death. Do you know he went to prison for her? DO YOU!!! He almost died for that slag and now after she’s dead he goes and takes you in and fuck you instead.”

“LYSA!” Petyr roared but maintained his distance.

“Why, Petyr! You had me! All you had to do was kill Jon like I begged and we could have been happy. I could have given you everything. I gave you everything. After I begged Jon to get you out and return to the Syndicate. I did everything for you! You wouldn’t have this club or anything without me!” she wailed and raged and still Petyr held his stance.

Lysa pulled Sansa’s hair and clenched her shoulder digging her fingers into her wound making her scream. “Well, not anymore. You will do as I say for now on or she goes straight to Cersei.” Lysa let go of her hair and pulled a small gun from her pocket pointing it into Sansa’s side. “Or I could just kill her right here and be done with it.”

Petyr slowly walked across the room as Lysa began to back up with Sansa with her. “Oh Lysa, you really didn’t think this through did you?” he smiled and it made Sansa’s stomach turn.

“I’ll do it, Petyr! I will! I’ll kill her right here,” she yelled nervously.

“Go ahead. She means nothing to me. Just as you said, I was only fucking her,” he laughed as he continued forward. “In fact, I’ll do it. I’d hate for you to get blood on your lovely hands.”

“What?”

Both Lysa and Sansa stared at him in confusion. Sansa had to believe that he was bluffing.

“Do you have any idea how you have ruined my plans, Lysa? I was going to take her to the Lannisters today. I couldn’t tell you because you couldn't keep a secret if you tried. I was going to blackmail Cersei to kill off Jon or I’d expose Sansa Stark and Joffrey as the murderer of Ned and his family to the Syndicate. It was all so carefully planned. Cersei would kill Jon, I would still expose them and the Syndicate would be mine  _and yours_.”

“I don’t believe you…” Lysa stammered.

“Well, if you kill her now, it doesn’t matter. But if we keep her alive for just a little longer, we will have everything. Don’t you see?” Petyr’s voice was smooth and intoxicating. He pulled his gun and Sansa felt Lysa dig the metal into her side. Petyr didn’t even look at her once. He was focused on Lysa and waited patiently and Sansa began to panic.

“Tell me what you want Lysa? Dead or for blackmail?” Petyr asked carefully.

Lysa took her time deciding and finally uttered, “Shoot her, but don’t kill her. I need to know you aren’t lying.”

Sansa struggled against her aunt and screamed, "No!"

“All right. You might want to move away so you don’t get injured, darling,” he instructed.

Lysa pointed the gun at Petyr and slowly made her way to his side, her eyes never leaving his hands. “If you don’t do it, I’ll kill you then her, do you hear me?”

“Perfectly,” Petyr smiled and moved towards Sansa.

“Petyr please, don’t,” Sansa pleaded. She tried to back away only to have the wall hit her back.

“Sorry, sweetling. It has to be this way,” he spoke but instead of pulling the trigger he hit her head hard with the gun and Sansa fell to the ground seeing stars.

“That’s not what I said, Petyr!” Sansa heard Lysa yell out.

“Well, you seem to be under the delusion I give a shite about you have to say,” he laughed bitterly.

A shot fired out and Sansa could see the two struggling in her blurring vision. Lysa’s gun had been thrown across the room and Petyr had her by the neck with the gun pointing just above her ear. “You bastard! You stupid bastard. You’ll see. She’ll betray you just like her fucking mother!”

“Shut up,” he spat and Sansa could see him forcing Lysa to the lift doors.

“You can’t shoot me,” Lysa shot out bitterly. “Jon will hunt you down. I promise you.”

Petyr laughed coldly as he hit the button to open the doors. “Oh my sweet, how much coke did you have today? Do you really think Jon cares about you? I’m doing him a favour. But you’re right, I can’t shoot you. It would be too suspicious. How little you know me. I’m far more creative than that.”

The chill in his voice made Sansa ill. The doors opened and Petyr dragged Lysa inside screaming and kicking. Sansa crawled over and just before the doors closed she stuck her arm in making them reopen automatically.

“Petyr… don’t do this.”

Sansa didn’t know why she was pleading. She was dizzy and losing consciousness as she saw her aunt’s scared eyes staring at her.

“Sansa, help me, please… don’t let him kill me…” Lysa begged until Petyr tightened his hold on her neck cutting her off.

“This doesn’t concern you anymore, sweetling,” Petyr warned. “Let the doors close. I really don’t want to injure your hand.”

Petyr gently pushed her dangling arm from the track letting the doors close. Before she passed out, Sansa saw in the reflection of the mirrored wall, Petyr’s finger press the button for Level B.

_The Basement._

 


	35. Basement Dweller

 

 

Lysa struggled against him as Petyr waited patiently for the lift to reach the lower level. It was going to happen sooner or later and Petyr wished he had killed her off ages ago. At the soft ping, the doors opened into the dark basement of the club.

Petyr expected Sansa would arrive soon when Lysa called him. She was already outside the club and Petyr knew she had only one reason to be so bold. He had purposely ignored her when he returned from Dorne and after he dealt with the dead assassin and then Myranda, she was sure to be next. He had hoped Sansa would have seen the monitors and stayed in the office or apartment knowing her aunt was here. He was certain he left the safe room locked but in his haste the other day, it was possible that he didn’t fully shut the door automatically locking it.

She had snooped through his files and appeared she was going to confront him until she accidentally interrupted Lysa’s interrogation. So, Lysa had seen Sansa’s scar and started putting things together. He underestimated the woman but when she came into the club with the Coroner’s file, it didn’t prove a thing until Sansa walked in like a deer in headlights.  Sansa didn’t tell him Lysa saw her scar and it infuriated him. He would have known how to diffuse this better. It was probably for the best. Lysa needed to go and Petyr was going to send Sansa away anyhow. Now, she will definitely want to go, knowing what she believed to be the truth. Sansa would most likely not even hear his side of it all. The truth didn’t seem to matter much now it seemed.

Petyr flipped the switch and the buzz of the fluorescent lights flickered on one by one, illuminating the cold room. The woman kicked and screamed as he dragged her along the cement floor closer to the furnace where a small table and folding chair waited. Stacks and stacks of kilos of cocaine and heroin from Dorne lined the wall and were ready for disbursement giving the room the look of a padded cell.

The closer they came to the table and furnace, Petyr could see the form lying on the dirty mattress on the floor. The woman’s eyes squinted in the light and but she made no sound. Lysa finally saw her and began screaming at the top of her lungs. The bound woman watched silently as her former boss brought another into this dungeon.

“Lysa, shut up or I’ll have to gag you,” Petyr threatened in irritation.

He tied her arms to the heavy metal leg that was bolted to the concrete. Lysa struggled and it rattled the table as he sat down and looked over the different drugs. He pulled out his cigarettes tapping the pack for a moment before taking one out and setting it on the table. With a quick snap of his lighter, Petyr inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled as his fingers drummed on the cold metal.

“So, what have you taken today, Lysa?” he asked nonchalantly like a doctor to a patient.

“Fuck you! Let me out of here! You’re dead, do you hear me? DEAD!” she yelled pulling against her bonds.

“Yes, yes… but not before you, my dear. Let’s see, depending on what you have already taken…  _this_ ,” he held up a vial and the cigarette bobbed between his lips as he spoke, “will put you into cardiac arrest… this one, might as well just have me shoot you because it would be less messy, and this one _could_  make it less painful. It’s up to you. These little cocktails aren’t going to mix well with half the shite I know you normally shoot yourself up with,” he smirked.

“Fuck off! You don’t have the stones!” she spat.

He chuckled coldly and picked up the last vial. “You don’t deserve this one considering what you just did upstairs, so we’ll need to make it interesting. Let’s see here. A little of this with a hit of heroin should take you on quite the trip.”

He dropped a bit of heroin onto the spoon and flicked the lighter. It bubbled and fizzed until it was just right and Petyr used the needle to extract the liquid. Adding a small measurement from one of the drug cocktail, Petyr tapped it and looked over to the dark-haired woman on the mattress.

Her eyes were wide with fear and Petyr warned her, “Be quiet, or you get to test this next.”

Petyr came around the table and bent down to Lysa. “You know Lysa…” he sighed, “You really brought this upon yourself. None of this concerned you at all. You just had to meddle in my affairs and now look where we are.”

He brought the needle to her neck as she screamed and bucked against the table leg. “Now, now, you’ll break the needle and it will be more painful. Don’t fight, Lysa. You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he cooed gently but held her roughly against the metal leg.

Petyr injected the drug and abruptly let her go. She struggled for a moment or two before drooping down to the floor as the drug took fast effect. “I’ll fucking kill you… I will…”

“You just had to tell her, didn’t you? Fuck, you weren’t even there. Your blind hatred of Cat after all these years has led you to this,” Petyr shook his head. “I loved her very much and she did betray me but not in the way you think. I was so young and stupid then. You do things for love that logic tells you is ludicrous. But you wouldn’t understand love, would you? Obsession with someone who never wanted you is not quite the same thing.”

Petyr lifted Lysa’s head and looked at her glazed eyes. “Yes, you’re definitely not coming back from this…” he grimaced. “You know what is funny about the whole thing Lysa? I was able to forgive her unlike you. Even though I was bitter later, I didn’t want her to go to prison, so I took the fall. I thought of revenge for a while but it didn’t serve me. Ned wasn’t going to survive in the Syndicate like his brother and father before him. He didn’t have the stomach for it.”

He took a long drag and let the sweet smoke fill his lungs. “Someone was going to kill him and I thought  _that_  would sate my hurt and betrayal knowing what she killed for _and loved_ was taken away. Had I taken my vengeance, she never would have had Sansa… and she is one thousand times the woman her mother ever was.”

Lysa went from mumbling gibberish to wailing loudly that turned to shrieks as the drug took her deeper and deeper. Petyr looked at his watch…

_It shouldn’t be long now._

He glanced at the ceiling thinking about Sansa. He hated himself for striking her but there was no other way. It was strange the way fate ending up working things out. He thought he loved Cat when he really didn’t. Not really. It was first love, a crush and nothing more. Perhaps it was more the idea of her than anything and the fact that he was willing to go to prison for her, made him sigh in disbelief now. How naïve he was. She ended up truly happy with Stark and Petyr felt such remorse that night seeing what Joffrey and his cronies had done. She didn’t deserve that bloodbath and neither did those innocent children. He wanted to kill those wretched boys right then and there, but this was bigger than just some little sadistic wankers, he told himself.

What he didn’t count on was  _her_. He had always intended to use her just like he told Lysa, but she changed his world. He never thought he could feel such emotion again. Petyr had channelled his anger into playing this game and didn’t care for anyone. He tried to convince himself it was only lust he felt and nothing more. He didn’t want to care about her, but the more he was with her, the more she dazzled him. The more he wanted to protect and dote on her and the more dangerous she became to him. Petyr was worried he would throw caution to wind in order to protect her like Cat so many years ago. She was his Achilles heel now, and he couldn’t let that happen again.

Lysa was wrong. Sansa wasn’t Cat. Petyr might have saved her because of her mother but she was her own woman and a strong one at that. Sansa was beautiful, smart, savvy with a wit to match his own. Petyr wanted to believe Oberyn. That he should just take her and run. He rather wished he could have before now. Petyr had hoped that he scared and angered Sansa enough to run away to a better life. It wasn’t going to happen now. She never should have returned. He never wanted her to see this side of him. Now, it was too late.

Lysa was becoming quieter and Petyr checked her pulse. It was weak and slowing. He would take her car and park it near one of her usual haunts that she frequented. Everyone knew she was a horrid addict and it would be of no surprise that she overdosed. He wasn’t lying when he told her Jon Arryn, her husband, wouldn’t care. He didn’t. He got a son out of it and that was all that mattered to him.

Still, if he wanted, Petyr had enough evidence to plant that could easily point the finger in the direction of a certain blonde boy and his friends. Jon Arryn was the only thing standing in the Lannisters way of complete control. It all came down to how he wanted to spin it but getting Sansa out of here was his next order of business whether she liked it or not. He would never see that lovely creature again and it left an emptiness inside him.

Lysa mumbled a little and then it was over. Petyr felt for a pulse and found none. He unbound her arms and laid her out on the floor and stared at the dead woman for a moment. He took the last drag and stubbed out the cigarette on the metal table.

“Oh my god, she’s dead….she’s dead. I don’t want to die,” Petyr heard the girl cry on the mattress.

Petyr walked over to her and sighed, “You should have thought about that before you paid some thug to kill her, don’t you think?” He turned her to face him in the dim and dirty light. “Don’t worry Myranda, I have a very special job for you. A _penance_ , in a way.”

He returned to the table and picked up another needle. She squirmed away from him as he bent down and grabbed her arm. “Ssssh, it’s just something to relax you and help you sleep. You won’t be down here much longer, I promise. If you do what I tell you, I’ll make it quick and painless. I highly doubt Ramsay will be as kind if I give you back to him alive after what I’m going to do.”

Myranda whimpered and after a minute or two she fell back to sleep. Yes, his plan for her was practically perfect. Kill two birds with one stone. Petyr stood and looked at Lysa's lifeless body. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, Lysa, but I’d be lying.”

Petyr turned off the lights and stepped into the lift. Now he had to get rid of Sansa for the second time and it was tearing him apart. He knew she was playing him last night and if it were any other man, she probably would have succeeded. She very well could betray him and that old wound spoke louder than any reason and logic. There was something in the way they made love this morning that made him doubt himself just a little. It started out as a little tease but it ended up being quite different like the night he made love to her in Dorne. There was something there was true between them. Knowing what he was, she still wanted him. Today he didn’t need to worry about seeing the hurt or heartbreak in her eyes. Today if she didn’t want to run away screaming, she was a fool.

The doors opened to a disoriented Sansa trying to slowly make her way across the floor when he put his arm around her waist making her scream. He tucked the gun in his trousers by the small of his back and held her.

“Ssssh, it’s all right now,” he whispered as she struggled weakly. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. You need to get some ice on that and lie down. I’m sorry I hit you, Sansa. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Selling me to the Lannisters, isn’t hurting me? Killing my uncle isn’t hurting me? Fucking me while fantasizing about my dead mother isn’t bloody HURTING ME?!” she yelled while trying to break loose his hold on her. “Hitting me in the head was the least fucking, hurtful thing you’ve done!”

“Do you honestly believe I would sell you to the Lannisters? Sweetling, if that was my intention, you would have been in their clutches yesterday,” he retorted controlling his anger. “Come, you can yell at me all you like upstairs with a compress. You’re bound to have swelling.”

Petyr practically had to drag her to the lift and he didn’t blame her in her fear of him. When he pressed the button for the third floor, she sighed. He would never be able to rebuild trust with her, so sending her away was the best thing for them both.

Once in the apartment, he sat her on the sofa before going to the kitchen to retrieve ice and a cool cloth for her head. He didn’t hit her hard enough to completely knock her out, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a mild concussion.

“Here, lie back and hold this to your head,” he instructed softly.

Petyr retreated towards his safe room and discreetly picked up the bag with the money and took inside the room. Looking around he could tell immediately what she had touched and rummaged through. Brave girl, he thought. He grabbed some ibuprofen after he filled a syringe with something to make her sleep quickly. Petyr knew she would struggle if he told her he was sending her away. That had been the plan when he entered her hotel room last night. He needed to convince her to leave on her own or trick her. The trick, as pleasurable as it was, worked. The hotel didn’t need a missing guest that only created questions and suspicions. Petyr needed to move her quickly and quietly. The sooner she was gone, the better.

A ringing perked his ears and he stepped out of the room to investigate the noise. It was her cellphone. If Petyr wasn’t calling her, that meant only one thing. He couldn’t imagine she gave the number to anyone else and it was highly doubtful to be Martell making a social call. Sansa moved to pick it up and Petyr halted her taking it for himself.

It was Joffrey. The horny little fuck didn’t waste any time, he frowned.

“Joffrey.”

“Should I answer it?” she asked.

“No. Make him wait. You don’t want to appear anxious as if you’ve been waiting for him to ring,” he advised. Petyr knew he was just biding his time with this ruse. It would be better if she were off her guard.

The girl nodded and put the ice pack to her head. There was a questioning in her eyes and it had nothing to do with Joffrey. He thought about explaining to her but held his tongue. It was pointless now. Let her hate him and be done with it.

“Let me get you some pain killers. You’re going to have quite the headache. We’ll discuss how to take care of Joffrey…”

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” she asked cutting him off.

Petyr stood and stared at her for a moment. “Yes,” he answered directly and without feeling. There was no point in lying to her anymore. She didn’t cry or show any emotion but simply returned his stare.

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done, sweetling,” he muttered. “I don’t understand you, Sansa. The woman was going to kill you or hand you over to the Lannisters for her own gain. Yet you give yourself anxiety about how she died or that she is dead at all. Do you think for one moment she ever cared about you?” he asked in astonishment. Sansa had a good heart and that is what made him believe she couldn’t go through with even killing a piece of slim like Joffrey. She wasn’t a killer and he was grateful. “Don’t weep or feel guilt over her, sweetling.”

“I don’t feel guilt. I didn’t murder her,” she whispered with venom.

“Yes, you did… partly anyway. Why didn’t you tell me she saw your scar? We probably could have avoided this,” he lied.

“I thought you would have hurt her,” she said avoiding his eyes.

“I see. That plan worked out well now, didn’t it?” he retorted coldly. “She had gone to the police and requested the files on the deaths so I was told but she had nothing. I made sure of that. I asked you that night why she wanted to talk to you before you called me. Did she ask you about it then? Suspect you then?”

“I told you the truth. She asked me only about you,” she replied. “A fight broke out in the club, I got pushed down and my dress ripped. Before I could cover it, she saw. I told her it was a knife wound from campus months ago.”

“So, instead of calling my bluff, she called yours instead,” he frowned. “That’s why she is dead, because of you. Protecting you has consequences. Do you still wish to call my integrity into question over your well being?”

“And my mother and uncle? Is that what you call integrity? Gunning down a man because he was going to marry someone you couldn’t have?” she glared.

“Not exactly but you wouldn’t understand,” he replied bitterly.

“Enlighten me.”

“No. I don’t think I will for your mind is already made up,” he countered calmly. “I’m not in the mood to try and convince you when we have bigger issues at hand. I want you to clear your head and get back in the game if you want to kill Joffrey.”

“All right,” she answered. “I want one thing clear when this business is finished. I don’t ever want to hear from you again.”

Petyr’s chest constricted and pretended those words didn’t hurt. “No worries. It was never going to be an issue on my part but whatever makes you feel better, sweetling.”

“Good, as long as we are clear.”

“Crystal.”

Petyr returned to the safe room and loaded the syringe. The dose would be enough to knock her out for at least a couple hours he estimated. Plenty of time to pack her up and get her on a private jet out of here. She would wake on the plane and be no worse off.

He grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and tucked the syringe in his back pocket before walking out and this time locking the safe door properly.

He poured a glass of water and approached the sofa and suddenly she became tense. “Calm down, it’s only ibuprofen and water. Jesus, I just saved your life down there… again, I might add. A little trust is appreciated,” he said knowing full well he was lying through his teeth.

Sceptical eyes watched his every move as he sat down on the sofa near her feet and handed her the glass and bottle of pills. She took them warily and inspected the bottle.

“It’s a little hard to tamper with a sealed bottle. See for yourself since you obviously don’t believe me,” he sighed.

Sansa opened it to find it was indeed new and sealed. Her eyes showed distrust and confusion and Petyr didn’t push it. He needed her to relax and let him get closer. It would be best if he could avoid a struggle. He didn’t want to break the needle or hurt her. She dispersed a few tablets into her hand watching him at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, you’d think I was going to attack you or something.” Petyr moved off the sofa and retrieved a beer from the fridge.

He watched her swallow the pills but held on to the glass as if it was Holy Water to protect her from him, the Devil. Inside, Petyr smiled to himself. Smart, she was. No longer naïve and trusting. He taught her well, he thought sadly. Petyr took a long swig of the beer and pushed those thoughts away. He grabbed another cloth and filled it with ice and walked over to her.

“Here, that one is melting,” offering the compress in one hand. She thought about it for a moment when she suddenly took the compress and he leaned forward to remove the one from her forehead. In a flash, he pulled the syringe from his back pocket flicking off the lid but she was quick and held his wrist pushing with all her might.

“Sansa,” he grunted in the effort, “It’s for your own good.”

“The fuck it is…” she huffed as she bit down on his forearm making him howl in pain.

Before he knew it, Sansa kicked him right in the stones sending him backwards to the floor. The syringe was still in his hand and he reached for her leg but felt a blow to his cheek as she hit him with a small stone sculpture on the side table. The syringe flew out of his hand across the floor and Sansa scurried for it. Dazed and in pain, Petyr grabbed her legs as she kicked at him but he was stronger. He climbed forward grabbed more her thighs and then torso. He could see her fingers graze the syringe and went to grasp her arm when she rolled around and he felt a sharp pain just above his collarbone.

Petyr groaned as he sat up and pulled the needle from his body as Sansa crawled quickly away from him and was looking for another weapon. If she was smart, she would kill him right now, he reasoned. The cellphone was ringing again and Petyr knew her too well. She wasn’t going to run. She was going to try and kill Joffrey on her own.

“You fucking liar! This was the plan all along wasn’t it?” she demanded. “You never intended for me to do this. Well, you better fucking pray that wasn’t anything lethal, Petyr. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The drug was fast-acting indeed as it coursed through his veins. He tried to reach for the coffee table and slumped forward missing it completely. His vision was blurred and all he could hear was that goddamned ringing.

“Sansa…” he mumbled incoherently feeling himself falling down. “Don’t…”

He couldn’t remember what he wanted to say. Don’t go? Don’t try and kill Joffrey alone? His mouth didn’t work. He wanted her to run. Take the money and run. She needed to know the code to the safe room. What was it? Five numbers. The blackness was creeping in and he couldn’t move. He saw her feet walking around him as he hit the floor immobile.

“ _You should have trusted me, you son of a bitch_.”

 

 


	36. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS for those of my sensitive readers
> 
> It's violent and pretty fucked up

 

Petyr didn’t move and all Sansa could do was stare blankly at him lying on the floor. Was he dead? The phone was ringing on the coffee table and the sound of it was ominous in the stillness. Slowly, Sansa made her way towards him with tentative steps as her eyes looked for any sign. Next to the table, she picked up the cellphone and could see that Joffrey had called again. She would need to ring him back and not lose the opportunity.

Sansa knelt down to Petyr’s prone and lifeless figure. Part of her just wanted to grab her things and go but something deep inside needed to know if he was alive or dead. Shaking fingers felt along his jaw until the slight and steady beat of his pulse emerged. Sansa released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

 

_He’s alive. I didn’t kill him and he wasn’t going to kill me._

_You don’t know that. He could have just planned to knock you out and dump you somewhere._

_He could have done that last night. He had every opportunity._

_He could have been telling the truth downstairs with Lysa for all you know. You have never known his game. He’s played you since the beginning, you idiot._

_You’re going to end up like Aunt Lysa and whatever he’s done to Myranda._

 

The ring of the cellphone made her yelp in surprise. His persistence shocked even her. On the second ring, she knew she needed to answer it. Sansa took a deep breath and tried to calm down. By the third ring, she was in character and tapped the screen, speaking with a cool tone of voice.

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa didn’t know how long the drug would last and needed to hurry. She changed her clothes and quickly vamped up her makeup and hair. Finding the poison and her handgun in her bag, she tucked the vial away between her breasts. If she could just poison him, she could make a break for it.

She had told Joffrey she preferred to meet rather than having him pick her up. If she were at the hotel, it wouldn’t have been an issue but even then she wanted to have her own transportation just in case. He told her of a pub near the university and Sansa knew it well. Get him a few drinks and propose they go off somewhere more private.

Picking up her bag and suitcase, she looked around for the other bag with her money. It was right here when she first came into the apartment before going downstairs. Sansa searched all around and then gazed at the painting that hid Petyr’s safe room and her eyes closed. No, this wasn’t happening. He must have placed the bag inside and now the room was locked. The door was completely sealed with no handle of any kind. She searched around the edges of the priceless artwork’s frame and found a small key code. It didn’t have any numbers just five keypads that told her it needed to be a specific sequence. There was no way she was getting inside.

“GOD DAMN YOU, PETYR!” she wailed as she kicked the wall furiously.

He was still out cold and she couldn’t very well wake him. Quickly, she rummaged around the apartment looking for any valuables he might have only to find nothing that she could take with her. She sat on the bed for moment and tried to think when she glanced down and saw a crumpled cocktail napkin lying on the floor next to the waste bin. Sansa picked it up unraveling it and remembered from the night of her attack.

 _Harry_.

The handsome bloke that hit on her in the nicest way before it all went to hell. He stood up to Petyr at the salon and she wondered where she would be right now if she had gone with him for a coffee. She crumpled the paper in her hand and was about to toss it when she slipped it inside her handbag instead with her cellphone and a little cash she had left from last night. God, why didn’t she take some of that money and get an account while she was in Dorne? A pre-fucking-paid credit card! Anything!

_You told yourself you didn’t want to be traced. You stupid, stupid girl. Haven’t you watched enough movies to know this shite?_

Fuck, what had she gotten herself into? She was with Petyr for weeks and learned nothing. Never put your eggs in one basket.

Suddenly, she remembered that the office was open and knew he kept petty cash for the club. Sansa grabbed her bags and took the lift to the second floor. She ran into the office and to the small safe near his desk. It was locked and she tried the last code she knew of and it didn’t work.

_That’s right, you moron. He probably changed it after the club was broken in the night you were attacked and told Olyvar you quit._

Sansa screamed in frustration. Her way out was gone and she was still meeting Joffrey in an hour with only one hundred dollars and a useless passport. The overwhelming feeling of doom crept over her as she leaned against Petyr’s lacquered desk. Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be. You weren’t meant to survive that night… except to kill that arsehole. This is fate telling you what you need to do. Go in with no fear and do what needs to be done.

She glanced up and could see Olyvar at the front door of the club through the wall monitor.

_Oh, shit._

She needed to get out of here and fast. Quickly, she turned off the lights and shut the door as she saw him walk to the main lift. Her bags were in the service lift and she could make her way down and out into the garage before he knew she was there. As fast as she could, Sansa hauled out the back of the club and into the garage. She tossed her bags inside, opened the garage door and backed out of the club, never to see it or Petyr again.

 

* * *

 

 

He was late, the fucking wanker.

Sansa had politely dismissed at least three men that tried to flirt with her as she sipped a glass of wine. She picked out the midnight blue dress Petyr seemed to like so much. It was elegant but seductive as hell and she certainly didn’t look like she belonged in a pub full of college students. She half wondered if they thought she was a pro. But what would a high-class call girl being doing in a pub she laughed silently. As quickly as the thought of being a call girl to get quick money entered her mind, she dismissed it with a grimace. No, she’d rather die than be like Myranda and sell herself to the highest bidder. Sansa didn’t know how sex workers did it every day. You need to be made of some kind of steel and nerve. Nerve, Sansa knew she didn’t have. No, this wasn’t "Pretty Woman" where the hooker lands someone like Richard Gere.

Just then, the little bastard in question strutted in looking around the pub. Sansa put on her game face and waited before smiling in his direction. He finally spied her and studied her for a moment before she nodded her head to come sit with her.

“Hello, my lady,” he drawled and Sansa forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“Nice of you to join me, I was getting awfully bored sitting here with all these boys hanging about,” she teased lightly. “You have some catching up to do,” she added sipping her wine.

For almost an hour, she listened as Joffrey talk about himself incessantly. His mother was a nosy parker and always in his business wanting twenty-four hour security around him. He laughed at how Roose Bolton's body was found mutilated and Sansa didn’t recall Petyr telling her _that_. What else did he not bother to tell her? The blonde rambled on about Jon Arryn and how he was unfit to run the Syndicate and Joffrey couldn’t wait to take charge of it all. He ridiculed her father and Sansa bit her cheek to keep from smacking him senseless. She smiled and agreed with him on everything.

Sansa was fully prepared to answer questions about who she was but Joffrey didn’t seem to care. She cooed seductively and touched him here and there always keeping eye contact. She was hoping he would need to use the toilet after so many pints and may be able to slip the poison when no one was looking. Glancing about, that wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t terribly busy and that was the problem. If the place was packed, it would be easier to poison him. Now, too many eyes were on the attractive girl at the bar. She needed to get him out of here.

“Hey, how about we blow this place?” she smiled and crossed her legs letting her skirt ride up just a little. The blonde’s eyes followed every movement and he quickly downed his beer asking for the tab.

They walked out to the street and Sansa started towards her Jag.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Tell me where you want to go and I’ll meet you there,” she answered remotely unlocking her car.

“That’s yours?” Joffrey inquired admiring the vehicle.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving my baby here all night,” she smiled as the blonde got the hint.

He walked up to her and put his arms around her waist and it made her skin crawl. His hands travelled down and traced around her bum. “Is that so? What did you have in mind?”

His eyes leered and Sansa knew what he was into. Playing coy with him wouldn’t work.

Sansa leaned in close almost touching his lips. “I was thinking about… fucking each other’s brains out.” She let her hand rest on his inner thigh without touching him and added, “Unless, you were expecting a boring movie and just copping a feel.”

His breathing hitched, “Your place or mine?”

“Ooh, my place is a dull hotel room right now until I get my new flat. I’m dying to see where my Sun God sleeps and plans to rule the world,” she smirked.

Joffrey was such an arrogant arse, that he ate every word and gesture. Sansa smiled and kissed him letting her tongue drag across his lower lip. She knew what he liked.

“If we go to my place, we take my car,” he grinned and his tone scared her. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll bring you back here personally in the morning.”

Sansa smiled and tried once more, “Can you promise that my car will still be here in the morning? It’s not that I don’t have money to go buy a new one tomorrow, but I am quite fond of this one.” She tried so hard not to sound nervous about going with him but Sansa hated the idea of not having an escape.

_Escape where, you dolt? You have one hundred dollars in your bag and nowhere to go. You’re probably going to die tonight._

“I’ll buy you a new one myself and kill the bastard that steals yours,” he bragged and Sansa refrained from gagging. God, he really was pathetic and she bet his penis was tiny as fuck. Margery should thank her lucky stars that Sansa was saving her the embarrassment of having to pretend she liked fucking him.

Sansa locked her car and tucked the key remote in her bag. Taking his arm, she let him lead the way to his Lotus. Sansa chided herself for ever thinking he was hot in his flashy sportscar and throwing his money around. Unlike Petyr, he didn’t open the door for her and Sansa let herself in. The car smelled of weed and Sansa always hated the smell of it. He peeled out into the city streets showing off as he always did.

“So, what is your real name, Persephone?” he asked while fondling her knee.

“Alayne,” she smiled.

“Just Alayne? Only whores have first names… and you don’t strike me as one of those,” he sneered and Sansa felt for all prostitutes that had to bed fuckers like him.

“Stone. My grandfather is an American oil tycoon and left everything to me when my father and mother died,” she lied effortlessly.

“You don’t sound American,” he teased with a hint of suspicion.

“My mother is English and raised me in Europe. I’ve been travelling on my own since I came of age,” she continued and the story easier to tell.

“Really? I’m gonna have to kill my mother if she doesn’t leave me alone soon,” he snickered and Sansa had no reason to believe he probably wasn’t planning it. “So how did your parents die?”

“I killed them,” she replied without missing a beat and smiled. It was meant as a joke but Sansa wasn’t sure if she expected him to be shocked, or dismiss it as a funny lie. Instead, he gazed at her with a wicked gleam and she knew she found what aroused him.

“You did not,” he chided with a laugh.

“Jealous?” she purred and traced patterns on his thigh as he drove, “Want to know how I did it? I’ll teach you and you can off your mum and it will all be yours. That’s what I did.”

He was hard and Sansa tried not to laugh. It  _was_  tiny. She took note of her surroundings and knew he had a place near the edge of the bay. It was very private and away from his mother’s snooping eyes. The road he turned on confirmed her suspicions. She just hoped none of his friends were hanging out there tonight. If she had to, she could take his car and abandon it a few blocks from the pub and escape in her Jag. She wasn’t lying about leaving it there. That part of the city was ripe with car thieves and she was scared to death it wouldn’t be there.

That was all moot. She needed to kill Joffrey and not die in the process. In less than ten minutes they would be at his flat and the ultimate game would begin.

 

* * *

* * *

 

His head was pounding. Weary eyes opened to a dark room and Petyr had no idea what time it was. The dose would have knocked out a woman of her size for four or five hours at least. A stream of light streaked across the hardwood floor and Petyr realized that it was from the bathroom. Groggily, he pushed himself up and slowly made his way to the open door.

The water was ice cold on his face as he tried to shake off the effects of the drug. Petyr looked in the mirror and a man that just had his arse kicked by a girl stared back at him. She fought hard and Petyr had to commend her for that at least. He was dying of thirst and flicked on the lights of the apartment heading towards the kitchen. Once he righted himself, he would need to find out where Sansa was. He bugged her phone and car before leaving the hotel and would be able to trace her exact location. Wherever she was, Joffrey had to be with her.

Petyr told himself he needed to stay calm as he gulped two bottles of water. He had never been so thirsty in his entire life. She had clearly changed her clothes and readied herself here while he was passed out by the state of the room. Her bags were gone but the safe room was still locked.

 _Fuck_.

She probably didn’t have much money on her and Petyr bet every dollar in that bag that she didn’t have enough foresight to stash some of that cash in an account for later. All she could think about was killing that little blonde bastard and nothing else. She thought she could just take the cash and run and be untraceable.

Petyr opened the room and sure enough, everything was still inside. He pulled out two bags that he had been saving for the perfect time. Everything he took from Joffrey and his cronies was neatly sealed with their fingerprints. Petyr had things from so many crime scenes that he had cleaned for the Syndicate. Evidence to put so many people away including Joffrey, Ramsay and half the thugs in the city.

He filled up the duffle bag he used for cleaning and set it aside. Petyr logged on the computer next to search for Sansa. The bugs he planted would give intermittent pings when not actively searched. The car was near a pub by the university and by the timestamps, had been there for over an hour. Her cellphone pinged across town to the bay and Petyr knew where she was. He had no reason to believe she was still at the car. Whether she had killed him yet or was dead or in trouble herself, she had to be with the cellphone. Petyr had to take that chance and choose a location.

He had survelliance cameras set up at the boy's bachelor pad a year ago at the request of his mother to keep an eye on him. He knew where every camera was located. If she was there, she would have been recorded entering the flat. Usually, he would delete or edit any video when he cleaned a scene but not tonight. He had a better plan and no time to lose.

Petyr wasn’t lying when he told Sansa she was fucking up his well laid plans, but he thrived on chaos and last minute changes. He set the tracking devices on his cellphone and grabbed his bag heading downstairs. Olyvar was in the office and avoided eye contact as he rushed in.

“I’ll be out for a few days and…”

Petyr stopped when Olyvar slid the files across the desk towards him. The two men looked at each other and Petyr could sense fear and trepidation in his assistant.

“I didn’t look through it. It was scattered on the floor when I came in and well, I didn’t want the staff to see it,” Olyvar muttered anxiously.

Whether he was lying or not, Petyr didn’t care. He didn’t have time to explain anything. Olyvar knew him well enough to know what he did inside the Syndicate. He would have been a fool to even think of blackmailing or turning Petyr in.

Petyr picked up the files and his car keys and headed out the door.

“Ol’…” he said as he turned in the doorway.

Olyvar raised his hand in a half wave not looking at him. “Boss, you know me…. I don’t want to know.”

Petyr smiled, “I was just going to say… thank you.”

Heading out of the city, Petyr looked at the time and cursed. He had been unconscious for at least three hours and had no idea when Sansa had met up with Joffrey. Clearly, they met at a pub. A neutral place and whether he liked her or not would have depended on her seduction skills. Petyr bet that Joffrey insisted he drive and took her to his place near the beach. She still would have her gun and poison but Petyr couldn’t imagine her being able to hide the gun if Joffrey put her in his car. So she would be relying on the poison and any number of things could go wrong.

His jag sped through the back roads of the city to avoid police and make up some time. For all he knew, he was too late already. Petyr glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Myranda was still out. He would need to use smelling salts or something more to wake her up when he got there.

Petyr turned left on a country road that was a faster route to the beach than the main road. He looked at his cellphone and Sansa’s tracking device hadn’t moved. He shifted gears and hit the gas pedal letting the car do the work it was built for. Petyr took the corners of the winding road at high speeds knowing he needed to get there as fast as possible. Joffrey was a loose cannon and anything could happen. Petyr berated himself over and over. He never should have let this happen. He prayed that he wasn’t going to have clean up Sansa’s dead body a second time.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

The flat was empty save the two of them, so he told her, and Sansa wasn’t sure if she was relieved or scared to death. There was no turning back now. Joffrey’s bachelor pad was a couple of miles from the nearest beach house along this part of the bay. That seclusion ate at her core. There was no one to hear her scream or to help. She was completely on her own.

Walking inside, Sansa wondered what his place looked like and she wasn’t surprised that it screamed arrogant douchebag. It was just as she imagined it would be. She saw a billiards table, entertainment room where it was clear they played videos game while drunk and high all day, a trashy looking bar. The place just looked dirty considering how expensive she knew it had to be. On the wall by the bar was a collection of swords, knives and other old world weapons. Joffrey was definitely compensating for something.

“You like those, Alayne? I tracked them down all over the world. God, they knew how to do it back in those days. Guns are too fucking easy. I’d love to aim that crossbow at some fucking idiot that gets in my way,” he laughed.

Jesus, he truly was a sick fuck. She played along disguising her disgust and fear. “Hmmm, why not get up close and personal?” she winked fingering one of the daggers.

“Is that what you did? Stab them?” he asked and his eyes were gleaming with excitement and lust. He backed Sansa up against the bar and held her waist. “You can tell me. I will keep your secrets.”

“You want to know a secret?” she whispered in his ear. “I fucking orgasmed doing it.”

With every word, Sansa wanted to vomit. She hated seducing him. Hated being this close to him. Loathed that she had to play this sick part to keep him interested and his guard down. Only a psycho like Joffrey would be turned on by murder. She needed to get him to drink a little more and find a way to slip the poison in his cup.

The blonde kissed her neck, biting her skin and Sansa frowned in revulsion. She ran her fingers through his hair and tried to think of something, anyone else. She tried to imagine Petyr kissing her and it just wasn’t working. When she felt Joffrey’s hardness pushing against her hip, she gasped but he took it as a signal that she liked it.

“Are you hungry? I could use a bite to eat…” she asked as he devoured her neck surely to leave bruises.

“We can eat after. I want to fuck you,” he mumbled and continued on.

“But baby, if I’m gonna ride your huge cock all night, I’m going to need some fuel first. That wine made me a little tired and I totatlly plan on fucking you till you pass out,” she purred.

Joffrey pulled back and licked his lips looked her over. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to get tired. You have to agree to something first.” His eyes narrowed.

“Ooh, sounds promising,” she lied.

“I get to tie you up and do whatever I want to you,” he sneered wickedly.

Sansa didn’t let the fear show. She could imagine what he did to Petyr’s girls. So she played it up instead to mask her horror.

“Just the way I like it. No man had ever wanted it the way I like it. I want you to beat me, make me scream and cry. I knew you were my kind of man, the moment I laid eyes on you. I bet Margery doesn’t let you fuck her like that,” she pushed it further seeing the excitement in his eyes. She kissed him roughly and massaged his crotch with vigor. “Feed me, master, and then punish me.”

Joffrey smiled and bit her lip hard and she cried out and quickly covered it up by moaning. When he pulled away she stared at him and licked her bloody lip.

“I’ll be right back. Make me a drink,” he ordered.

Joffrey disappeared through the kitchen door and Sansa covered her mouth in disgust. Oh God, how did she ever believe she could do this? She was mortified by what came out of her mouth. Petyr was right. She never would have been able to seduce him like she was thinking before. He would have toyed with her and then treated as one of his whores. She needed to be something so hideous to lure him away from perfect Margery. He needed a sick freak like him and now she wasn’t sure she could even go through with one more minute of this fucked up charade. He had to die now or she was in a world of shite.

She pulled out the vial and dumped the contents in a glass. He had been drinking beer and tequila shots tonight and Sansa needed to make him a drink fast. Something he could toss back before he realized there was something wrong. She made a few shooters and right when she picked up the vial, Joffrey returned a pair of sandwiches and crisps.

Sansa tucked the vial in between a few empty beer bottles behind her and smiled. “I made tequila shooters,” she said handing him the tainted glass before picking up her own. “To an… an unforgettable night.”

She tossed back the shot in one gulp, her eyes never leaving him.

A nasty smile spread across his face as he brought the glass to his lips. “Let the games begin…”

Joffrey couldn’t get it all down and took two large gulps before setting it back on the counter. It was done and now all she had to do was wait but for how long? Oberyn said it worked quick and it would be a most painful death and told her to make sure she didn’t get any near her mouth or eyes.

Just then, Joffrey pushed Sansa hard against the counter and pulled up her skirt to her waist. She gently pushed back but he was having none of it. “Don’t I even get a taste of that sandwich?” she joked but the anxiety in her voice couldn’t be disguised.

“You get to taste my cock after I fuck you first,” he grinned trying to spread her legs.

Why wasn’t he dying yet? He wasn't choking, wheezing, nothing! Joffrey tried to kiss her and she pulled away. She didn’t want his mouth anywhere near her.

“What the fuck? Is this a game? Kiss me!” he roared and Sansa turned her face biting his ear hard enough to draw blood.

The blonde screamed and drew back his hand to slap her but she was quick enough to move away. Joffrey grabbed her dress and she felt it rip open exposing her chest completely. He stared at the scar on her shoulder and the look of his face was one of astonishment. He clenched his throat and his face flushed pink as Sansa desperately tried to pull away.

“You fucking bitch! What did you give me!” he gasped but didn’t relinquish his hold on her dress.

“What you fucking deserve, you murderer! You tried to kill me and failed, and now it's my turn!” she yelled at him.

Joffrey’s eyes widened in disbelief as he began coughing up blood.

“YOU!” he choked out as realization hit him.

“That’s right, you fucking piece of shite. Revenge is god damned sweet!” she roared grabbing a bottle from the counter and crashing it on his head. With all the strength he had left, Joffrey shoved her across from the bar hitting the wall with his treasured works of death. She pulled a large dagger and swiped at him cutting his upper arm before he grasped her wrist and smacked her to the floor.

Shite, he wasn’t dying fast enough Sansa panicked in terror. His eyes were bloodstained and veins pulsed beneath his skin as he dropped to the floor behind her grabbing a fist full of her dark hair. He was choking and spitting up blood and bile as she tried to crawl away from him but her head pulled back as he weakly held the dagger near her throat and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

A shot rang out echoing in the room and the hand that held her hair fell away slumping to the floor. Sansa looked behind her and Joffrey lay dead with a gunshot to the head and the dagger still in his grasp. She was shaking all over when she finally saw him from the other side of the room. His eyes were grey, deadly and full of anger as he pointed the gun in her direction.

Petyr didn’t rush to her side, ask if she was all right or even seem to care about her well being at all. He stood there with a grim expression staring at her with the dead boy bleeding out next to her.

"Is there anyone else in the flat?" he demanded immediately.

Sansa stared blankly at him and mute from shock.

"Tell me. Is there anyone else here?" he pushed harder and Sansa numbly shook her head no.

“Stand up but don't move from that spot and don't touch a fucking thing,” he commanded quietly.

Petyr lowered the gun and now she could see that the gun was inside a bag and he was wearing latex gloves. Sansa didn’t know if she should try to run or just do as he said. She drugged him after all, what was meant for her, and tried to kill Joffrey against his wishes. She didn’t know what was in that syringe. For all she knew he was going to kill her. She had to do what she did.

Petyr walked over and yanked her up to stand in front of him. She couldn’t speak and even if she could, Sansa didn’t know what to say. He inspected her quickly assessing the damage but there was no tenderness in the way he touched her.

“What have you touched since you’ve been here?” he asked briskly.

Sansa couldn’t make her brain work as she gazed at him blankly.

“Wake up. Think. What have you touched?” he demanded again.

She looked around wildly and tried to pull herself together. Robotically, her mind processed the bits of information spitting it out incoherently.

“The… the… counter. Tequila, um… glasses…” she looked at everything around the bar. “Bottle that I hit him with. The Cointreau and lime juice….dagger…”

Her voice was quivering and she felt tears start to well up. Oh Jesus Christ, what had she done?

“Focus. What else? I need to know everything,” he instructed coldly.

The poison! Where the hell was that vial?

“The poison is behind the beer bottles…” she mumbled.

“Anything else?”

Her mind raced from the moment she entered his flat to when Petyr shot him. She shook her head numbly and felt like she was going to retch.

“For the love of God, don’t vomit. Swallow it if you have to,” he scolded her as he moved away looking at the scene. She attempted to follow him but he told her to stay put.

“Security cameras have you entering the flat. They are placed specifically. Stay here and do not move from this spot. I don’t need you tracking blood anywhere else. I’ll be right back,” he ordered and left through another room towards the back.

It wasn’t long before he returned with a large duffle bag and set it down near the billiards table with the gun in the plastic bag. Petyr walked over and handed her a pair of latex gloves. Once her hands were covered, he gave a pair of surgical booties. He lifted her up and gently removed her high heels before moving her to a piece of plastic he laid on the floor in a clean area of the room.

“Put those on and strip. Try not to get any blood or hair on the floor,” he instructed and returned to where the boy lay in a pool of blood. With a baggie, Petyr collected strands of her hair from Joffrey's bloodied hands and clothes. The dark hair was very visible against the white stone floor and marble bar. He grabbed a small mini vacuum and went over the areas again a second time. He picked up the dagger, broken bottle neck, and every item that she may have touched and threw it into a garbage bag except the vial and the poisoned glass. Those were completely wiped down and set aside. Next, he broke out cleaners and took a cloth to everything around the bar.

Sansa stood in her underwear shivering as she watched him clean the scene of the murder. He was meticulous and quiet. When he finished he inspected everything again making sure he didn’t miss a thing. Once satisfied, he returned to her and pulled a plastic bag with a pair of his trousers and a shirt.

“Wear that, and don’t leave this spot,” he told her and disappeared once again.

Sansa had changed into his clothes when he came back and was pulling along a woman with him that looked half baked.

_Myranda!_

Sansa was frozen and didn’t know what was happening when he yanked her over onto the plastic.

“Sansa, move over there if you please,” Petyr pointed to where his bag sat near the billiards table.

She watched as he guided Myranda to the plastic and removed her shoes, setting them to the side.

“All right my dear, take those off and put on this dress please,” he instructed coolly.

The former popular call girl whimpered and pleaded with him.

“Now, now, we discussed this already. Do it,” he demanded.

The woman disrobed slowly and Petyr waited impatiently for her to pull on the tattered dress Sansa was wearing only minutes ago. He looked at Sansa and then mussed Myranda's hair to look a bit similar. Sansa's hair was black and Myranda was a more dark brunette. They could slightly look alike except Myranda was bustier and Sansa slightly taller. The wheels started turning and Sansa felt a chill.

“Petyr what is this?” Sansa finally found her voice.

“This? Pennance, sweetling. Myranda here is atoning for the wrong against you,” Petyr explained and Sansa now understood. Myranda sent the hitman and Petyr was making her take the fall for Joffrey’s murder. Dear God, this was only getting worse the by the minute, she thought as Petyr picked the woman up and set her down in the spot that he removed Sansa from. The surveillance video wouldn't be crystal clear and it was possible that they wouldn't think twice that it was Myranda and not some mystery girl.

Petyr put Sansa’s heels on Myranda’s feet and sighed in relief. “Thank God, you both are the same size. I was worried that wouldn’t work.” Petyr looked Myranda over and told her to stand still as he walked to the bar and picked up both the vial and glass Joffrey drank from. After wiping down the broken bottle, he placed her fingerprints on the items and dropped the glass letting it shatter and tossed the vial letting if fall where it may.

He moved back to Sansa, pulling out a different gun wrapped in a plastic bag in addition to the one sitting on the floor from his bag. Picking up both weapons, he walked back to the drugged woman standing in a pool of blood. Removing the second gun he took from the plastic bag, he then stood near Myranda who looked as though she was ready to pass out. He fired several shots towards the front door making the girls jump and then placed the gun in Myranda’s hand. Both Myranda and Sansa looked at him incredulously that he would give her a weapon as he calmly walked towards the front door. Petyr turned around when he heard several clicks of the gun trying to fire with an empty chamber.

“Do you really think I would have given you a loaded gun, Randa?” Petyr smiled sadly shaking his head.

Without a word, he shot her in the head with the same gun he fired on Joffrey. Sansa could only watch in horror as the woman fell down in a heap against the dead body of Joffrey Baratheon.

Sansa was against the wall and couldn’t move. She was frozen in fear and didn’t know what to do. Petyr tucked the plastic-covered gun back in his bag and started cleaning up the items he brought with him and Myranda’s clothing when a noise sounded from upstairs.

“Fuck,” he cursed softly as his eyes scanned the ceiling. The sound of furniture getting knocked over and the running of someone towards the side of the flat. “Get in my car and stay there. Go out that back door through that room there.” He pointed to the area that he originally entered from. “There is no security camera and my car is around the corner. Go!”

Petyr hauled up the stairs and shots were fired as she started towards the back of flat and stopped. Before she realized what she was doing, Sansa ran back and grabbed her handbag and Myranda’s shoes. She took off to the back door and rounding the corner, a man jumped from the balcony almost landing on her. They looked at each other for a moment in a daze and Sansa recognized him as one of Joffrey’s nasty little friends. The boy took off as someone upstairs fired two shots at him until he disappeared into the darkness.

Sansa ran to Petyr’s car and got into the driver's seat. She was scared out of her mind and was running on pure adrenaline now and couldn’t think straight as fear pulsed through her. She started the engine and looked around not knowing what she was looking for. Opening the glove compartment, Petyr had another handgun and this one was loaded.

“Sweetling, what are you doing?” a stern voice asked.

Sansa yelped and pointed the gun at him through the open car window. Petyr immediately raised his empty hands and spoke in a soothing tone that she was very used to.

“Okay, I need you to calm down. You’re a bit hysterical,” he calmly voiced that didn’t match the sharpness of his eyes watching the gun in her hands.

“Back away, Petyr,” she choked out.

“Sansa, I need you to give me the gun and calm down,” he asked again with such politeness that it took her off guard for a moment.

“Like hell, you…you…you killed everyone in there… you killed my aunt…” she stuttered with the gun shaking in her hand while an edgy foot was on the gas pedal.

“And every single one of them was planning or would have killed you,” he reasoned but she couldn’t hear or understand it. All she wanted to do was get away from here.

“Will you kill me when I’m no longer useful to you? You don’t have anyone else to blackmail now, do you? That boy saw me before you shot at him… He knows we killed everybody,” she cried.

“Sansa…”

No, she didn’t want to listen to him anymore. She couldn’t take it and every gut instinct was screaming for her to get the fuck out of there. Sansa released the brake letting the car spin out a little before turning and heading down the narrow road leaving Petyr behind in the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	37. Twenty Four Hours

Theres only 24 hours in a day

And half that many ways for you to lie to me my little love

And half all those you lay awake with thoughts of murder and carnage

There’s only 24 hours…

And that’s not enough

To lie like you lie or love like you love

\- Lana Del Rey

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Her ears echoed with the sound of blood pumping as her heart raced furiously. Eyes darted back and forth between the road and rear view mirror. It was so very dark and the sharp turns came fast in the limited light from the headlights. She vaguely knew where she was but it didn’t matter. Putting distance between her and the bloodbath that lay behind was what made her press the pedal to the floor.

The blood, dear God, the blood that literally poured out of the blonde murderer. Oberyn had said it would be a nasty way to go and he did not lie. However, if it had not been for Petyr, Sansa feared that Joffrey might have slit her throat. She could still feel the strength of his hand as it pulled her head back. She had screamed so loudly she could have ripped her vocal cords and then it was suddenly quiet.

Petyr was cold and methodical in the practiced way he worked the scene. How many murders had he cleaned, or covered up? How many murderers, like Joffrey and his mates, were still walking around free as a bird because someone paid handsomely for a man like Petyr? Tonight, he came to fix what she had come here to do. Did his plan involve Myranda or was she just a last-minute change?

Sansa pulled over to the side of the road and barely opened the door enough when she vomited bile and alcohol on the ground. Wiping her mouth on Petyr’s silk sleeve, she sunk into the seat trying to catch her breath. Myranda took her place. Petyr was saving her and framing the brunette. The adrenaline pulsed and made her head ache. Why would Petyr use her? It had to be more than just the failed attempt on Sansa’s life. Why would Myranda kill Joffrey? Why did Petyr want them to believe she was involved?

Sansa could still see his face when she pulled his own gun on him and drove off. There was anger, surely, but worry and sadness filled his eyes and Sansa couldn’t shake it off. He was covering it all up and blaming someone else to protect her. She tried to think of what his original plan might have been until she knocked him out with his own drug meant for her. Petyr didn’t and perhaps never wanted her involved in this. But he promised her when it all began that he would help her kill Joffrey. Somewhere along the line, Petyr changed his mind. He didn’t think she could do it. Or he was worried that she would get hurt.

All these emotions and questions flooded her mind, and so many doubts rushing forward. What if Joffrey never drank the potion? She didn’t know the boys were upstairs. She could have been raped, tortured and then killed. So many things could have gone wrong and she had no plan for any of it. Petyr had saved her once again but this time it was different.

All she could see what the fury on his face after he killed Joffrey and then the cool indifference when he shot Myranda without a second thought. Could Petyr have killed her after cleaning up the scene to tie up loose ends? She turned the tables on him and he could have left her to her own doom tonight.

Sansa stared behind her down the dark coastal road and wondered what he was doing. She took his car and left him there with only Joffrey’s sportscar and at least three dead bodies. One had escaped and Sansa felt sick all over again. He would surely go to Cersei and tell give details on her son’s murder. He would know Petyr and he saw her as well. It had all gone to shite tonight and it seemed both she and Petyr were going to pay the price.

Briefly, she debated if she should go back but logic and reason screamed no over and over again. Sansa needed to get as far away from Kings Landing as she could get. Something told her this was about to blow up and she couldn’t risk staying in the city. Someone somewhere was going to recognize her and it wouldn’t be long before Cersei’s henchman came looking for a girl of her description. If Cersei was anything, it was ruthless and unstoppable.

Sansa slipped on the dead woman’s shoes and searched through Petyr’s Jaguar. Registration papers and only the gun were in the glove compartment. The trunk had two duffle bags filled with items that belonged in an episode of CSI. Sansa laughed sarcastically thinking she had all the tools to erase her presence from the car she stole and nothing more. No extra bullets for the gun, which only had four left in the clip and not even any loose change.

The Dornish passport, hundred in cash, phone, keys to her car and the gun were all she had on her. If her Jag was still parked by the pub, she could at least grab her clothes and the passport Petyr made for her. She needed to ditch his car. Petyr would most likely want it back and it would be easy for him to find.

_So, you’ve made your decision? You’re going to try and disappear with next to nothing?_

_If I go back, Petyr will probably kill me for leaving him and stealing his car… He killed Lysa, Joffrey, Myranda and one of Joffrey’s friends. How do I know he wouldn’t kill me off as well to save his own arse?_

_You drugged him, and he still found you and saved you._

_He's a liar. I just can’t trust him. No one is going to believe Myranda decided to kill Joffrey on her own. Something else is going on here. He could have still have been setting me up. He’s lied to me the whole time…_

No, she couldn’t go back.

_What you should have done was stay in Dorne, you dumb girl. You had money, a new identity, and a possible future. Now, you have nothing. And for what? To kill that bastard with your own hands? What good did it do you?_

Sansa was back on the road and she couldn’t stop the voice in her head. Joffrey was dead. She should feel happy, right? She took revenge on her family’s murderer. Why didn’t she feel good that he was dead? She remembered the conversation with Oberyn. He had taken his revenge on the Lannisters for her sister. He tried to tell her it doesn’t make it better nor reduce the hurt. Her family was still dead and she was completely alone in the world. In fact, she was now worse off than before and Sansa couldn’t imagine this is what her parents would have wanted for her.

Before she knew it, Sansa was back in the neighbourhood where she left her car. The pub was surely closed by now and if she had any fucking luck remaining, her Jaguar would still parked where she left it. Sansa parked Petyr’s car in a secluded area a block away and walked to the corner and waited. She shouldn’t be too hasty. She underestimated Petyr so many times before.

When she peered around the corner, what met her eyes wasn’t at all what she was expecting. Sansa had worried that someone might steal it considering the neighbourhood it was parked in, but watching it being loaded onto a tow truck had never crossed her mind.

_Petyr, you fucking son of a bitch!_

He knew she had been here with Joffrey, that was the only thing she could think of. Why would anyone else tow it? He couldn’t risk anyone stealing it either. He had to know she probably left all her things in the trunk when she left with Joffrey. Things that would identify her as Alayne Stone and a connection with him. So, he _was_  tying up loose ends.

_You see? He was probably going to finish you off after he had erased you from everything. Alayne Stone never existed and Sansa Stark is already dead. You are already a ghost._

Sansa went back to Petyr’s car and wanted to scream. Everything was getting worse by the second. If he found her car, it wouldn’t be long before he knew where she was. All he had to do was make one call and the car could be locked and the engine shut down by remote. He could know right now where she was parked. Did she take a chance driving and get stuck in an even worse part of town?

She thought for a moment about just popping the trunk and cleaning off her fingerprints but just as quickly as it came, she dismissed it. If Petyr was going to use her prints, he had the car he needed already on a tow truck. He wouldn’t bother with his own car that would only implicate himself. Suddenly, paranoia set in and Sansa ran from the car. He was on his way, she just knew it. She wasn’t going to end up like Lysa and Myranda. If she was going to die, it would be on her terms not anyone else’s and certainly not Petyr’s.

Sansa ran across the road and just as she came to a hole in a broken fence, she saw bright headlights coming straight ahead. Ducking into the hole, she found a hiding place in the shrubs and peered through the rotting wood fence.

The Lotus turned the corner and slowly made its way towards where she had parked Petyr’s Jag. It was Joffrey’s Lotus and she held her breath. The ostentatious car stopped and for the longest time, just sat there idling. Finally, the driver's door opened and it was Petyr that emerged. He slowly scanned the area before unlocking his Jag and inspecting it. Sansa watched him silently almost forgetting to breathe in fear that even from this distance he might hear her.

He looked deep in thought and then suddenly took out the duffle bag and a few things she couldn’t see and loaded them into the Jag from Joffrey’s sportscar. Sansa could see in the dim light that he was wearing gloves and kept a watchful eye around him as he locked up his Jag again. For a minute, he just stood and drummed his fingers on top of the Lotus looking around as if he wondered if she was watching him right now. Quickly, he returned to the Lotus and drove away and Sansa wasn’t sure what to do. She was afraid if she left her hiding place, that he would be waiting to snatch her.

Sansa decided to stay hidden for a little while longer to be safe. Approximately four blocks away was a small diner and motel. College kids usually went there to fuck and it was all she could afford. It was far more dangerous for her to stay outside. If Petyr didn’t find her first, she would most likely get mugged or raped. It didn’t seem like she had any good options to choose from. At least she could have a few hours to try and figure out the next move.

Quietly, she left her hiding spot and carefully made her way towards the motel. At least she had a gun, she mused sadly. She kept it in her trouser pocket as she walked. In less time than she thought, the neon light of the motel sign flickered with the M shorting out every few seconds.

She scanned the area looking for the Lotus or any sign of Petyr and after several minutes made her way to the dingy office window.

 

Locking the door behind her didn’t make Sansa feel safe at all. Anyone could kick it down with very little effort. She sat down on the bed and the springs creaked noisily. Everything looked dirty and falling apart in this horrid room. A room she had to pay for. Tears fell, one by one, down her cheeks as reality finally hit her. Only twenty-four hours ago, she was in a lavish hotel and she and Petyr were at it like rabbits. She had money, a car, identity… means to go wherever she desired and want for nothing. Now, she was in a rathole and almost completely broke.

She was in way over her head from the very beginning. Petyr had kept her in comfort and without him, this is exactly where she would have been had she run from his club that first week. She had constantly made one bad decision after another. She was a naïve, twenty-year-old girl that thought she could become this badass going after her family’s killer on her own. Stripped of Petyr’s money and protection, she had nothing and nowhere to go. Sansa cried herself to sleep not knowing whether she would wake up in the morning. If or when Petyr found her, she was probably dead anyway.

Morning came too quickly, as Sansa showered and dressed in the only clothes she had, Petyr’s. His scent lingered and part of her desperately wanted to wake in his soft bed in the house of the bay. She wished she could go back and tell that girl to let him take her to Dorne and just let all these notions of revenge go. Let him give her everything she needed to disappear and do just that.

Her stomach growled that only reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in many hours. She bought a cheap breakfast and sat defeated in the little coffee shop several blocks from the motel. Sansa knew she had to keep moving but needed to eat. The small sandwich was hard to swallow knowing she had very little money left. She never knew what it was like not to have money to buy such simple and mundane things such as food.

Leaving the gun in her handbag, Sansa pulled out the passport and money she had left when a piece of crumpled paper fell out. Unfolding it, she almost forgot that she tucked it in her bag yesterday before leaving the Mockingbird. Harry’s phone number seemed to stare back at her. She was just about to dial it when the telly in the corner caught her eye.

There was a reporter outside Joffrey’s flat, where police had taped off the crime scene. The news showed a video of a wailing Cersei as police and what looked like Syndicate people pulled her away as three bodies were being removed from the front entrance. The reporter said that three including Joffrey were brutally gunned down last night. There seemed to be a shoot-out and that the victims may have known their attackers. Identities of the other two victims were not being released yet and the detective only said that it was a man and woman of the same age group.

What made Sansa almost choke on her coffee were the reports that not one but two suspects were at large and considered armed and highly dangerous. The police seemed to have clues as to the identity of the suspects because of evidence at the scene but were not releasing that information other than they had both escaped and one of them had stolen Joffrey’s Lotus, abandoning it in the city.

Sansa felt sick and her hands shook uncontrollably. She had no idea what to do now. If the police suspected her at all, she was dead. Cersei wouldn’t let her live. Not even in jail awaiting trial. She was dead. There seemed to be no way out of this nightmare.

She looked down at the piece of paper and without a second thought, dialed the number. After a few rings a soft, friendly voice answered.

“Hi, Harry? This is Alayne… do you remember me?” she asked and after hearing his response with a sigh she added slowly, “I have no right to ask… but will you help me?”

 

 


	38. Edge of Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS
> 
> This is another very dark chapter and I feel the need in warning my sensitive readers once again.

 

 

The waiting. It was torture. Waiting hopefully for a friend. Waiting for the cops or some of the Lannisters henchman or even someone, she once trusted to walk towards the coffee shop. Sansa couldn’t be certain who or what was coming for her. At this point, she really didn’t have any more options. She could have rang Petyr, but not knowing what he was up to and what her part would be was too frightening. It seemed too easy, too practiced a thing that he killed with no emotion or second thoughts. It was just what needed to be done to further his own agenda. A carefully constructed plan she knew nothing of and clearly he wasn’t keen on telling her. He kept the truth about his connection with her mother a secret from her. Petyr kept everything a secret from her. She was only a pawn in his twisted game for power.

Sansa wasn’t sure how much of what Lysa spilled right before she died was truth or her own perverse fiction. Lysa had always hated her mother, that was obvious even to Sansa when she was too young to understand such things. How she wished she could go back in time when life was easy and her family was there to love and protect her.

Now, she was alone. No family, no friends and not even the man that Sansa wished Petyr could have been. She let herself blindly trust him and even care for him and to what end? Petyr had said many times how long he played this game and knew how to work people. Sansa was naïve to think that she could outwit a man like him. He seemed to already have a plan if she decided to come back to Kings Landing. Even after that night in the hotel when it appeared that he was her ally again, he was going to send her away. Drug her and ship her off and out of his hair. Everything was lie.

The news circuit was wild with speculations over the death of the young heir to the Baratheon fortune. The police still didn’t release information on the two suspects as she watched the telly in the coffee shop. With Joffrey’s Lotus abandoned and no word from Petyr, Sansa had to wonder if he fucked up and was on the run. Or Sansa fucked it up for him. Either way, they were both probably screwed and it was only a matter of time. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have her number to call. Would he even warn her at this point if they were the suspects being searched for? For all she knew, he would throw her under the bus to save his own skin. That unknown answer kept her from dialing his number.

Now, she gambled and contacted a man she knew nothing about. In her favour, he knew nothing about her and Sansa needed to keep her cards close. She was only Alayne, a girl that worked in a shady nightclub with a controlling boss. A girl he seemed to like and wanted to help that day in front of the salon. If she kept playing that role perhaps he would be willing to help her get out of Kings Landing. Sansa couldn’t help but wonder where she would be if she had gone with him instead of Petyr that day. Now, she was in a mess and couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.

A silver SUV pulled to the side of the road outside the coffee shop and parked. Sansa clutched her handbag feeling the hardness of the gun inside and waited to see who exited the vehicle. She exhaled slowly when the handsome blonde stepped out and looked around. The blue t-shirt and jeans hugged his long frame and his casual demeanor was refreshing to Petyr’s designer silks and cold exterior. Harry looked like comfort and relaxation personified. An old friend.

Tentatively, she made her way out of the shop waiting for the hammer to drop as it always did in the cop shows. A detective would cuff her and read her rights before a crowd. Sansa looked around and no police cars were rushing to the scene. Not a single siren could be heard in the distance and no henchman shot out of the bushes to gun her down on the sidewalk. It was just her and the blonde staring at one another.

Harry took off his sunglasses and his brows furrowed as he studied her. She was wearing a man’s shirt and trousers and must have seemed very odd to him, she thought. Sansa walked slowly towards him and fidgeted with her hair and held her handbag close to her chest as if it would protect her from something.

“Hey…” she said stupidly not knowing what else to say.

“Hey,” he smiled thinly taking her in from head to toe. “Are you okay?”

“More or less...” she answered not able to meet his eyes. “Thank you for coming. I honestly didn’t think you would.”

“I wondered what had happened to you after that day. You never called and I figured…” he raised his eyebrows and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No offense, but you look like shite.”

That crack broke the ice and Sansa finally smiled for real. “I feel like shite.”

“Well, I see I can’t buy you coffee once again,” he teased eyeing the cup in her hand. “Want to get out of here?”

“Yes…” she breathed.

Sansa still couldn’t stop her eyes from scanning the area out of paranoia as Harry walked her to the passenger side of his SUV. Unlike Joffrey, Harry opened the door helping her in before returning to the driver's seat. They drove in silence for several minutes and Sansa didn’t know what to talk about. She needed a story that didn’t involve a certain dead boy on the news. The sun was bright and Sansa’s eyes squinted when she remembered she wasn’t wearing glasses again. She saw Harry glancing at her and she decided to answer his unspoken question before he asked.

“My glasses got smashed. I can’t see shite. Pathetic, isn’t it?” she tried to laugh and fell back into uncomfortable quiet.

“Are you going to tell me where I’m going?” he joked trying to break the silence.

“Could you drop me outside the city? I don’t want to put you out or anything,” she asked quietly.

“Who are you running from? Him?” he inquired simply.

“Yeah,” she answered looking out the door window.

“He hurt you didn’t he?” It wasn’t a question and Sansa decided to let him believe what he wanted. It made it easier for her to lie. “Are those his clothes?”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly have a choice. I just ran. I don’t have anything. He has it all. I can’t go back there. I just can’t,” she whimpered trying to garner some sympathy.

“You don’t have any family or friends around here?” he continued his questioning and Sansa expected it.

“Well, no offense. I wouldn’t have called someone I barely knew, if I did,” she laughed a little.

Harry chuckled a bit and nodded his head. “Touché.”

It was quiet again and Sansa could see he was taking a northern highway heading out of town. The silence between them was far more awkward than when Petyr wasn’t speaking to her out of anger. With Petyr she didn’t feel the need to keep her guard up the entire time and it was becoming exhausting. She couldn’t be chatty and risk saying something she shouldn’t.

“Is he looking for you?” Harry asked trying to initiate some kind of conversation.

“I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do?” he prodded gently.

“I really don’t know.” She wasn’t lying either.

Sansa had no clue what she was going to do when Harry finally dropped her somewhere. She still had no money or identity. She had thought about just going to the police but remembered that the Syndicate practically owned them and Petyr would certainly know everything and prepared for it. She was still a murderer or at the least an accessory to murder. Once her true identity was revealed, she would be dead anyway. She would never be able to fully prove that Joffrey was the killer since Petyr removed all the evidence. It was simply her word against that of Lannister high priced lawyers regardless of whether she was the real Sansa Stark or not. Petyr wouldn’t vouch for her without condemning himself in the process. Cersei would have her killed before she could ever tell her story.

“Do you want to tell me about it? I mean, as much as I’m flattered at being someone’s knight to the rescue… it would make me feel a bit better knowing what I’m now involved in,” he said lightly but his meaning was firm. He had a right to know  _something_ , she reasoned. He didn’t have to help her.

“Well, you saw what happened that day…” she paused in thought. “I should have walked away then, but I was scared. And… each day got worse and worse and I felt trapped. The people that came into that club… the things that went on. I just couldn’t take it anymore. You were right, by the way…” she added sincerely. Praising a man’s intelligence and advice usually pumped their ego.

“What was I right about?” he asked glancing at her and back to the road.

“I didn’t belong there.”

“No, you didn’t. You actually stood out like a sore thumb to be quite honest,” he smiled sadly. “Well, you don’t need to tell me the details… I think I get the picture.”

Sansa was grateful for that. She really didn’t know how far she could talk without fucking up somewhere.

“I’m sorry I put you in this position. You’re very nice to help me… a perfect stranger,” she sighed. Sansa really did not think this through when she called. She put this man’s life in danger helping her and he didn’t know it.

“We’re not strangers…”

Those three words made her heart skip. She chanced a look at him and he smiled.

“We already met and had a pleasant conversation. That doesn’t make us strangers any longer in my book.”

“What does it make us?” she asked warily.

“New friends,” he smiled and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Friends help each other don’t they?”

Sansa wasn’t quite sure how to answer him.

“Yeah,” she smiled.

Perhaps it was time she started asking some questions of her own. It was strange how completely comfortable she felt with Petyr even when she first met him. There was something about him that put her at ease considering she knew what he was. Here she was with Harry, who seemed perfectly nice and chivalrous… why would he help some girl he didn’t know?

“Harry? Why are you helping me?” she wondered honestly.

He took his time before answering. “You seemed like a nice girl in what appeared to be a not so good situation from the last time I saw you. I was rather surprised you called truthfully. A girl calling me for help, especially one I barely knew… it told me she didn’t have anyone else to go to,” he said grimly. “What kind of man would I be to leave a nice girl in need of help?”

“There’s not a flatmate or girlfriend that’s going to wonder where you are with some strange girl? I would hate to cause you any trouble,” she fished sweetly.

He chuckled again but didn’t look at her. “Sadly, unlucky in love. No girlfriend, if that’s what you’re wondering about. And my flatmate?” His face changed along with his tone, “Well, that’s a pain in my arse I’m thrilled to be away from as much as possible.”

Sansa weighed his words and was worried she was thinking too much into it. She had a horrible girl she had to share her flat with during college. He could be single but it really didn’t matter. She wasn’t planning on ever seeing him again after this. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even live out the week at the rate she was going.

“I had a flatmate like that once,” she added and tried to calm her nerves. It was only nerves that had her all riled up and frantic.

Once again deafening silence filled the vehicle. Harry didn’t try to flirt since that would be inappropriate considering the situation, she assumed. Unanswered questions and mystery seemed to make the air thick.

“I hate to ask… since it seems very rude, but… I’m getting the feeling that you really don’t have anywhere to go,” he paused for a moment debating his words. “And you don’t have any money. I mean, you’re wearing men’s clothes and only have that small bag….”

“That’s my problem.  I don’t want to involve you any more than I have to.” She meant her words to be kind but they didn’t have that effect.

“Ah, so you’re just using me….” He countered with a laugh attempting some humour but it didn’t feel that way.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I just… I don’t know what he’s capable of and don’t want you to get hurt or anything like that,” she said hoping to placate him a little.

“That serious, huh?” he smirked. “Well, you obviously didn’t steal from him considering how I found you this morning.”

Sansa fidgeted her handbag and her nerves fired up again. “You know what? I’m putting you in a situation that isn’t fair,” she muttered. “You can just pull over here. I shouldn’t have involved you. This is my problem.”

“Hey, hey… I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m being an arse. Seriously, I want to help. Listen, you have no reason to trust me either.” By the way he looked at her, Harry seemed to sense her trepidation. He continued driving and after a moment he glanced back at her and sighed. “I have… well, my family has a little boathouse about thirty minutes from here. It’s near the cliffs. I used to go there a lot when I was younger and now no one uses it….” Harry glanced at her again and added, “You’re welcome to stay for a while if you want. Until you get things sorted out at least. It’s safe and quiet.”

Sansa thought about it and her gut was clenching. She couldn’t go back and she had nothing if Harry just dropped her off somewhere. He was offering help and she  _did_  call him for help.

“ _Why_?”

She didn’t realise she said it aloud.

“Because I like you,” he admitted hesitantly. “I’m just going to worry about you if I drop you off around here with nothing. You’ll ease my mind if I know you’re in a safe place.”

Sansa’s choices were dwindling by the minute and she needed to make a decision. She still had the gun… if she had to…. NO! She wouldn’t do that. Petyr had poisoned her mind with lies and deception to where she couldn’t tell the difference anymore. She couldn’t tell what was truth and sincerity. Harry could be just trying to help. She could hide away for a few days and figure out what to do. She would pay him back every cent.

“Maybe just a day or two…” she acceded.

Harry smiled, “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Harry turned off the highway and onto a small dirt road that winded through tall trees until they came to a three-way stop. All the roads looked the same, Sansa thought. As he drove, his cellphone kept buzzing constantly. He would occasionally take it out of his pocket only to take a glance and put it away. He caught her watching him and he grinned shrugging his shoulders.

“My boss,” he explained. “Didn’t exactly tell him I was taking the day off today.”

Now, Sansa really felt bad. He ditched his job to help her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your company is infinitely better,” he quipped.

The road opened to a clearing and Sansa could see the ocean. The boathouse was more of a cottage nestled against the jagged cliffs. A shabby wooden walkway led to even shabbier wooden stairs that disappeared under the cliff that led to the shore below, she guessed. Her thoughts immediately envisioned Petyr’s stunning house on the point and she tried desperately to push them down. She would not think of him. He was a manipulative, lying murderer. Even he, she mused, would have a hard time finding her here.

Harry pulled over next to the white and stone cottage as his phone rang again. My, he sure was the popular one, she thought. He opened her door, pocketing the phone once more and helped her out. Sansa followed him to the door as he fished for a key under a stone near the steps. Unlocking it, he entered the house and it wasn’t quite what she expected.

It was small and clean and very simple and modest in its furnishing. What gave Sansa pause was just  _how_  clean it was for a place that was rarely if ever used. She expected more of a dusty unused house probably with linen covering the furniture. This place looked like it was just used the other day.

“So, it’s nothing special,” he spoke as he threw the keys on the table.  “Kitchen, living room and a couple of bedrooms to the left. I’ll need to get some groceries. There's a small market and gas station just a few kilometers from the highway.” Harry scratched his head and looked around.  “Um, there might be some of my sister’s old clothes in the trunk in one of the bedrooms. I can’t promise they’ll fit.”

Sansa wandered into the combined living room with the kitchen and sat down on a small sofa.

“Why don’t you just relax and I’ll run to the market real quick,” he said picking up his keys and panic built up quickly as Sansa stood.

“I’ll go with you,” she told him.

“No, it will be faster if I go. Plus, maybe it’s best that nobody sees you. You know, in case he is looking for you. I mean it’s kind of far fetched to look up here but he seemed like a rather…um, thorough fellow,” Harry rambled nervously.

Sansa’s initial reaction was not to stay here alone but Harry sounded logical. The less she was seen the better. Petyr had a knack for knowing where she was all the time. And if the police or Lannisters were looking for her, sooner or later someone might start checking places like that to see if anyone saw a young brunette all alone and where she was headed.

She sat back down reluctantly and Harry smiled. “Honestly, don’t worry. I won’t be gone long. The telly is right there. Sadly, we don’t get the best reception out here.”

Sansa nodded and set down her handbag and watched him leave. The cottage was quiet except for the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs and her mind kept going back to him, his house, the yacht, Dorne, the hotel room… then Lysa at the club and Joffrey’s flat. God, she was so damn stupid.

To clear her mind, Sansa began wandering around the house, keeping her handbag with the gun as close as possible. There was a toy chest in the corner of the living room neatly tucked away. The kitchen was bare except for some dry goods as she poured herself a glass of water. The first bedroom had a double bed and sparse furnishings. The wardrobe was empty except for extra pillows and blankets and Sansa looked in the chest of drawers. There were indeed some clothes and she pulled a few items out gauging the sizes. The trousers were too small, so she opted for a pair of shorts that barely fit. The t-shirt was snug and she figured Harry’s sister was small in the chest.

Sansa held Petyr’s clothes for a moment. It was such a stark contrast to the expensive material he wore versus the clothes of just any average girl. Unconsciously, she brought the shirt to her nose and it still smelled like him. She should have just thrown them away, but for some unknown reason, Sansa neatly folded his clothes and laid them on the chest of drawers.

The second bedroom had two small single beds and it looked as though children slept here. Sansa smiled a bit at the thought of Harry being small enough to occupy this bed once. She padded barefoot back to the living room and turned on the telly curious about current news.

Commercials were playing as Sansa sipped her water. She pulled out her phone and debated on whether to smash it and throw it away. She didn’t need anything more reminding her of him or the temptation to ring him up. Sansa was about to throw it on the floor when the news resumed and it wasn’t about Joffrey.

Aunt Lysa’s body had been found across town in a seedy area known for drug activity. She was in her car and police said it looked like an overdose but nothing would be conclusive until an autopsy. The reporter and news anchor discussed the timing considering the Lannister murders just hours ago and the connection of the mob families were well known. The phone lay forgotten in her lap as she watched the news. They skated over the massacre of her family, but nothing was really said about Roose Bolton. As usual, and to his dying day, he was never important enough to talk about it seemed. Jon Arryn could be seen walking into the police station most likely to identify his dead wife.

The look on her aunt's face when the lift doors closed made Sansa ill. Petyr took her downstairs and gave her a lethal dose and disposed of her body as if it, if she, were nothing. Sansa’s heart sank and it wasn’t for her dead aunt. How close could she have been to being another Lysa or Myranda?

Sansa could feel the acid from her coffee building in her throat. She knew Lysa was dead but everything just seemed to keep hitting her in the gut. The anchor returned to discussing the big news as they waited from more details from the police. Myranda’s name had been released as the female victim as well as Joffrey’s friend that Petyr shot upstairs. That meant the other boy was still on the run and they didn’t say he was a suspect or involved at all. The acid churned as thoughts of him telling Cersei what really happened filled her mind. Maybe that’s why they weren't releasing any information. They knew and they were looking for them.

Complete hopelessness invaded every fiber of her being when Harry returned with a bag of groceries. She looked at him and couldn’t return his smile.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good,” he said with a grimace.

“I have a headache. Squinting to see is killing my eyes,” she lied.

“Ah, must be hard to watch the news… is that murder still all they’re yapping about?” he asked nonchalantly as he put away several items in the fridge.

“Yeah, pretty gruesome they say,” she said pretending to know nothing.

“Well, that fucker probably deserved it. The whole family is a bunch of twisted shits from what I hear. They should just kill them all,” he jested but there was an undertone that Sansa picked up and gave her pause.

“Did you know them?” she tested the waters.

“My family did in a way,” he answered but didn’t elaborate any further.

Harry finished in the kitchen and came to sit by her on the sofa in front of the telly. Myranda’s picture was shown and he did something that Sansa didn’t expect at all. He laughed!

“Oh holy shite, this just keeps getting better and better,” he laughed heartily and Sansa’s stomach began to drop. “Bitch, you got what you deserved,” he said to the telly.

Sansa didn’t like Myranda one bit and the woman did hire some thug to try and kill her but the way Harry spoke made Sansa feel sick. There was definitely some bad history between those two, she guessed and it made her feel very uncomfortable sitting next to him. Gloating over a murdered person was never good form.

She thought killing Joffrey would make her feel better and it didn’t just as Oberyn told her it wouldn’t. She didn’t feel for him at all but she definitely wasn’t gloating over his death like Harry was now in regards to Myranda.

“That’s what whores get,” he laughed nastily and got up from the sofa. In a split second, his entire demeanor changed from the sweet guy from before. He was reading the ticker at the bottom of the screen about Lysa and he laughed again. “Fuck, it’s just like Christmas. It’s about time that crazy bitch snuffed it. I’m not surprised. Uncle Jon was such an idiot for marrying that cow,” he said more to himself and Sansa froze with fear. He was related to the Arryns. Oh fuck, no. This wasn’t happening. Sansa willed herself to stay calm and smiled.

“I need a shower. I was at the gym when you called. Can you cook?”

The question took her completely off guard. “Um, yeah… a bit.”

“Great, why don’t you cook us something nice for lunch and I’ll be out in a bit,” he smiled and Sansa did not like at all.

He walked into the first bedroom and closed the door when Sansa began to shake. There was something definitely wrong here and her gut told her staying was a bad idea. Whatever Harry was, it wasn’t what she originally thought. There was a cruel quality to him that was emerging and scared her. The way he talked about Myranda and Lysa made her blood turn cold.

Sansa waited until she heard running water and began looking around the kitchen and living room for his keys. Shit! He probably had them in the bedroom. Sansa crept to the door and listened. The water was running steadily as she quietly opened the door and peeked inside. The bathroom door was open and steam billowed out as she heard him bathing.

His clothes lay on the bed and Sansa bet his keys were probably in his jeans pocket. She slipped inside the room and padded softly to the bed and sifted through his clothes. His cellphone and keys were in the same pocket and Sansa lifted the phone out not wanting to make a sound. Text messages were popping up and it caught her eye.

  * _Where the fuck are you?_




That didn’t sound like a message from an employer. If Harry was related to the Arryns, and knew Alayne worked at the club… would he be suspicious enough to tell someone about picking her up this morning?

Sansa quickly opened the messages looking at the bathroom and what she saw was completely unexpected.

Several messages from the name Saffron chilled her to the core.

  * _You said you were coming home after the gym. The kids need diapers and I wanted to go out with my friends today. I’m so sick of doing everything. No husband at all is better than you._




He had told her his boss called him in and he would be working late today. Oh God, he was married with kids? There was no text from a boss this morning like he said. The next thread of messages made her hands shake.

  * _That nerdy girl from the club? The hot one?_

  * Yeah. Picking her up now.

  * _You lucky son of a bitch. How you never get caught is beyond me._

  * Seems like she’s in some kind of trouble. Dunno. I’ll just see where it goes. She’ll probably be desperate. These girls are so easy to play. They eat that chivalry shite right up.

  * _Well, if you don’t want to fuck her, I will._

  * Piss off, that sweet cunt is mine. You can have my sloppy seconds, you tosser. Better yet, my wife needs a good shag, help a friend out.




Sansa dropped the phone to the bed and found the keys inside his pocket. Glancing to the bathroom door, she backed up the way she came when she heard the water turn off. Trying to close the door softly, the old brass hinges squeaked and she saw Harry’s damp hair peek around the doorframe as she backed into the hallway.

Shit, why didn’t she put her shoes back on after she changed clothes? Sansa frantically grabbed them and remembered her handbag on the sofa. If she could just get to the SUV and lock the doors, her mind raced…. Sansa turned around quickly and a tall, wet figure wrapped in only a towel, stood next to the sofa.

“Looking for this?” he smirked and everything that made him handsome was long gone.

Sansa swallowed hard and steeled herself. This time there was no one to come to her aid. She was lucky as hell that Petyr showed up when he did at Joffrey’s flat. She was that close to her throat being slit even though Joffrey was dying. A very healthy and strong man was standing between her and the only door out.

“I’m leaving,” she answered with confidence and held the keys tightly.

Harry chuckled and his voice lost all of its previous charm and warmth. “Not with my car, you’re not. Now, give me my keys.”

“Get out of my way, Harry,” she demanded darkly. This time she let her adrenaline work for her and stood her ground. He held her bag by the strap and Sansa tried not to stare at it.

“After everything, I just did for you? You selfish, bitch,” Harry sneered and didn’t move an inch.

“Your  _flatmate_ , I mean your wife must be thrilled to be married to you,” she shot back. She wasn’t going to cower to this asshole.

“She’s lucky I was forced into it. She gets the privilege of my family’s money,” he smiled and he was now holding the bag by the sides. Sansa prayed he didn’t feel the heavy gun inside.

“Some girls have all the luck,” Sansa countered and moving steadily back towards the kitchen counter keeping her eyes on him.

“You’re lucky I came to your aid. And this is how you treat my generosity?” His voice dropped and the smile left his face.

“Was payment for this…  _generosity_  payable in your bed, I suppose?” she tossed back as she came around the counter and saw the block of knives.

“Come on, honey. Why are you making this difficult? I’m a nice guy. We’ll have a good time and I’ll drop you off by the highway. You’ll probably have to fuck your way wherever you’re going anyway. Those truckers can be nasty lots. I’ll be good to you and not even treat you like a whore,” he grinned as if this offer was perfectly acceptable.

Sansa laughed hard, “Let’s see, so raping me is being good to me.” Sansa glanced at her bag and he was back to holding the strap.

“I don’t need to rape. I’ll make sure you’re screaming. You geeky girls are usually so quiet and shy… but fuck them good and they end up gagging for it again and again,” he bragged walking towards her. “Didn’t I help you? Well, now here’s a way you can repay me. Yell all you like, there’s no one to hear. And I’m betting that you don’t want any police involvement,” he laughed and Sansa grabbed one of the knives.

His eyes flickered down to the weapon she held in a fierce grip. “Look honey, we both know you’re not going to get anywhere near me with that knife. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Sansa laughed. Jesus, did men think all women were that stupid?

_Well, you did call and leave with a perfect stranger. When are you going to stop trusting men and hoping that one of them is decent?_

“Right, and that’s when you slit my throat,” she retorted sarcastically.

“I was never going to hurt you. I thought we liked each other. We could have a nice little friendship… with benefits.” Harry started to move around the counter slowly watching the hand that held the knife. Sansa moved at the same time and then bolted for the door. The man was faster and she tried to swipe the blade at him and missed. He gripped her wrist so hard, Sansa thought it would break.

“Drop it. I don’t want to break your wrist but I will,” he threatened.

He squeezed harder and the knife fell from her hand clattering to the hardwood floor. She tried to hit him but he yanked her arm behind her back. He was very strong and wasn’t letting go. She could feel he was hard under the towel and cringed. The more she struggled against him, the tighter he held her.

“Now let’s stop this bullshit. Are you going to play nice?” he growled. “Come on, we’re just going to have a little fun. You don’t have anywhere else to go, Alayne. Will you be a good girl?”

She needed him to let go and lower his guard somehow. Sansa nodded and tried to calm herself. Her bag was still hanging from his forearm. Harry leaned forward and kissed her. Her mouth was tight and refused to let him in. Pulling back he looked at her.

“I want you to kiss me,” he demanded and Sansa’s lips quivered. Kissing Joffrey was easier than this. She felt more in control last night than right now.

Harry lightly slapped her and the shock of it widened her eyes. “Hey, I said I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he hissed. “You want me to treat you like a nice girl or a whore?”

 _Play submissive. It’s what he wants_ , her subconscious told her.

“I’m a nice girl,” she whispered and let him kiss her again. He had zero finesse and practically slobbered all over her mouth. God, she didn’t think any boy was worse at kissing than Joffrey. Harry was getting by on his looks and nothing else. He was just as sadistic as Joffrey but hid it well. How many girls fell for his charms?

His arm wrapped around her waist but the other still gripped her wrist tightly. Petyr was such a good kisser and it was all she could do not to gag as Harry devoured her mouth. He was starting to get into it and waited for him to ease up on her wrist. Sansa faked a moan into his mouth and he chuckled again, “You girls are all the same…”

In the moment she felt his grip lighten, her free hand travelled down his abs and over the towel. He groaned and she felt him thrust his hips towards her hand only instead of grabbing him she slipped it inside the dangling bag. It all happened so quick. Harry grabbed her arm and suddenly her finger found the trigger pulling it and shooting right through the leather bag. He let go in shock and hit her hard across the face and pulled at the bag.

“You fucking bitch, I’m going to kill yo…” his voice was cut off as she fired two more times.

The half-naked blonde fell to his knees and wide eyes stared at her. She scrambled away and kept the gun pointed at him. Her breath was harsh and her heart beat wildly as the hands shook that held the gun. He didn’t speak but instead coughed up blood. Harry held his stomach where he was bleeding profusely and collapsed to the floor.

The only sound was that of the news playing behind her. The blonde was dead as his eyes stared lifelessly towards the kitchen. She shot him. Dear God, she couldn’t believe she shot and killed this man. Sansa waited as if the blonde was suddenly going to jump up and get her. Minutes went by and finally, she lowered the gun and sobbed.

Her hands, the gun and shorts were covered in his blood. Tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t crying for the dead man in front of her. She was so overwhelmed with everything that her emotions finally burst from the dam she had built. She killed this man. Murdered him.

 _He was going to rape and probably kill you_ , a voice that sounded very much like Petyr told her.

Sansa wiped her tears with bloodied hands and steadied herself. She needed to get out of here. A calm male voice asked her what she touched and Sansa tried to focus. She walked around the dead man avoiding any blood. She had splatter on her body but lucky enough not on her bare feet. Grabbing a hand towel, she opened a few cupboards finding garbage bags and cleaners. She washed her hands in the sink and then wiped the kitchen clean for any prints.

Picking up the knife and remote control, she tossed it in the bag and quickly stripped the bloodied clothes off and grimaced. These were probably his wife's clothes. Shuddering terribly, she added them to the growing collection of evidence. She found Myranda’s shoes and slipped them on hurrying to the bedroom. Sansa put Petyr’s clothes back on and cleaned the chest of drawers and doors thoroughly. Anything she thought she might have touched, she took a rag and cleansers to. Picking up his cellphone and wallet, she walked back into the living room.

Sansa switched off the telly and wiped it down. The glass of water, Harry’s cellphone, her ruined bag, extra towels and bottle of cleaner were thrown in the trash bag with everything else. She stood by the door and surveyed the room trying to think of anything she forgot.

_Keys_

Where were they? She looked at Harry and they were laying just near his arm by the edge of the sofa. She crept near him and hesitated in fear. Wasn’t this the moment in horror movies when the supposed dead serial killer killed the last girl standing?

A shaking hand reached for the keys but watched him. Harry wasn’t getting up. He was dead. The overwhelming need to vomit rose from her stomach and Sansa choked it back. She snatched the keys and backed away. He didn’t move, blink or make any sound. The blonde lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood as Sansa used a towel to open and close the door. She ran to the SVU and climbed in the driver's seat. Dear God, the level of déjà vu was intense as she started the engine and turned around getting back on the dirt road.

She was sobbing madly now as she drove making it hard to see through the tears. The house disappeared behind her and the road winded through the dense trees. She could hear his phone ringing in the garbage bag and cried even harder. The trees opened up again and Sansa saw the fork in the road. She paused at the three-way intersection and couldn’t find her bearings. There was no sign to direct her to the highway and Sansa couldn’t remember if Harry turned right or left when they passed by. A light appeared on the dashboard that told her she was low on gasoline and Sansa panicked. Harry had said that a station was only a few kilometers away. She needed to choose the correct road.

Praying for help, Sansa turned left to what looked like the way she passed to get here earlier and sped up.

_Please, please just let me get to the highway._

Her prayers were not to be answered as the road continued on with nothing else in sight. The gas light glared at her and right when she decided to turn around, the tires hit the mud and began to spin.

“Fucking hell, are you kidding me?!” she yelled at no one.

Sansa took a deep breath and took her foot off the pedal. Putting it into reverse, she tried to back up slowly and the tires sank even deeper. For a long time, she tried to get out but the wheels spun and it didn’t matter anymore. She was almost out of gasoline and in the middle of nowhere. Even if she got out of the mud, she wouldn’t have enough fuel to get back.

Her head rested against the steering wheel and she cried. She never would have believed forty-eight hours ago, that this is where she would be. Why didn’t she just leave when she had the chance? Why?

Sansa dug through the bloody trash bag and pulled out Harry’s wallet and cellphone. There were loads of messages from his friend and wife wondering where he was and why he wasn’t answering. It wouldn’t be long she guessed before someone reported him missing. She could walk out of here but she knew she wouldn’t get very far on his credit cards. As far as she knew, Cersei and the police were looking for her and once Harry was found… no, it was over.

It was only a matter of who reached her first. Lannister henchmen or the police. Either way, she was dead. Guilty of a double homicide. She killed two men in cold blood. She couldn’t erase the look in Harry’s eyes when she shot him. He was going to hurt her, she knew but it didn’t haunt her any less. She tried to take some comfort in knowing Joffrey and Harry would never hurt another woman again but it still made her a murderer. This, she looked at her hands, this is what she had become.

Sansa found her cellphone and the gun. Setting them on the dashboard, she stared at the two last options left to her. Tears stung her eyes as she sat in the now-dead SVU. Complete hopelessness enveloped her as time passed slowly. She picked up her cellphone and selected Petyr’s name. She waited and didn’t even hear it dial. Looking at the screen, it displayed no service available and Sansa leaned her head back against the seat.

Putting the gun in her pocket and holding onto the cellphone, she opened the door and the cool breeze hit her. There was no way to avoid the mud and so she stepped down and her foot sunk deep. Trying to step away, the suction took Myranda’s shoe right off her foot.

_Figures_

She made her way to firm ground and looked around. It was rather beautiful, she mused. The solace of the trees and the gentle breeze that made the tops sway to nature’s music. She could hear and smell the ocean and saw a clearing to her right.

Autumn leaves crunched under her feet and clung to her bare soles as she walked towards the ocean. The mud was cold but it didn’t bother her. She reached the rocky edge where all she could see was blue. It was late afternoon now and soon it would get very cold up here. Sansa pulled out her phone again and checked the bars for service. It barely flickered on the smallest one and then off again. She sighed and dialed again as the little bar in the corner of the screen toyed with her. It began ringing and Sansa waited.

_What if he doesn’t pick up?_

_Then you have your answer._

Just then she heard it pick up from the other end but suddenly her voice died. What should she say? Come save me for the millionth time? Come put me out of my misery?

She could hear him breathing or someone breathing. It may not even be him answering. What if he was dead or caught by them?

Sansa was about to speak his name when she thought she heard his voice and suddenly the call was cut off. The phone couldn’t detect service and she tried desperately to get those spiteful bars back but it was no use. She sank to the soft, cold ground and cried. The battery was now dying as well. Even if he wanted to, Petyr wouldn’t know where she was. Someone else would get to her before he would. It would take her hours to walk out of here and by then…

Oh God, what was the use? He would probably kill her himself when he found out she shot Harry as well. She looked at the phone again wishing those bars would magically appear and then the phone died and there was nothing else left but what was lingering heavy in her pocket.

She took the phone and threw it over the cliff and pulled the gun from her pocket. Four bullets. That’s what was there when she checked it this morning. Three were spent on Harry leaving only one left. She held the gun in her hands and had never been more scared.

Would it hurt? Would it be quick? What if she botched it and it took her a long time to die? She could be out here for hours slowly bleeding to death. Sansa sobbed heavily as she sat near the cliff’s edge. She wished Petyr had never saved her that night. She should have died then with her family. Now, she was going to die alone in the woods and be remembered as nothing but a murderer. Instead of revenge for her family, she would be vilified as Joffrey’s and Harry’s killer.

Sansa laid on her back and tried to quiet her mind. The tears wouldn’t stop as she listened to the waves crashing against the rocks below. The scent of sea salt and pine filled her nostrils as she let everything go. Taking deep breaths, she sat up and closed her eyes in a sort of meditation. She could do this. It wasn’t hard. Just pull the trigger. It will all be over soon.

Her hand shook as she pressed it to her temple. Tears leaked and streamed down her cheeks as she tried to summon that last bit of courage. A hard click sounded but nothing happened. Sansa opened her eyes and trembling hands brought the gun down. She was positive there was one bullet left. She remembered at the fair in Dorne when Petyr and Oberyn were shooting targets and Petyr’s gun seized. Maybe that was it. Fuck, she didn’t know anything about guns or how to fix them. It wasn’t like this was an old six-shooter that you could see how it was loaded. Petyr’s gun was a semi with a clip. She pulled the clip out and it was empty. Damnit. It was possible it was still in the chamber or whatever it was called. She turned the gun over when her finger brushed the trigger and it fired barely missing her leg.

The shock made her scream out and then in the next moment she cursed her terrible luck. God hated her and was punishing her, she mused. This is what you get when you kill two people even if they were horrible in every way. No quick death for you, girl. She was so pathetic, that she couldn’t even kill herself properly. It was almost funny.

No, there was nothing funny about this. Sansa understood how people could be driven to such lengths to end the pain. The bleak and horrible feelings of hopelessness were too much to bear. She picked up the gun and scooted closer to the edge of the cliff. It was a long way down to the rocks below. Sansa lengthened her arm out and dropped the gun counting as it fell quickly and disappeared into the crashing waves. She would probably have a heart attack before even reaching the bottom, she hoped.

Five seconds. That’s what she counted. Five seconds and it would be over. If she could pull a trigger, she could do this. All she would have to do is lean over and let gravity take her. The sky was getting hazy and the days were shorter this time of year. Soon it would be very cold and Sansa debated on whether to watch her last sunset before letting darkness take her forever.

 

 


	39. Prisoners

 

 

Petyr had checked his cellphone a million times since he last saw her. She was running, he knew, but he couldn’t chase after her. There was too much on his plate to follow the girl that no one was looking for except him.

The coffee was cold as he sat quietly listening to Detective Brune question the bereaved mother. The club owner and Syndicate handyman had tuned out Cersei long ago and could only nod his head occasionally in agreement as the investigation continued just as he knew it would. He gave out the partial truth as to why he dismissed his brunette call girl and with whom he believed were her associations. Petyr’s little seeds were growing fast with the fertilizer of a dead boy. Cersei believed everything he told her, giving a stern but apologetic reminder that the suspect in question never should have been trusted in the first place.

It was during this meeting that news of Lysa came and Petyr was prepared to meet with Jon Arryn when he would most certainly call for him. Petyr was primed for everything coming his way. The police were the easiest to handle with his man on the inside. Just the right amount of evidence planted at the house and Joffrey’s car was enough for a manhunt. Cersei was as hysterical and rash as he hoped she would be. Petyr bet that he wouldn’t have much else to do at this point. The Lannister mother would send her own to deal with the suspects. In fact, he doubted they would live out the next forty-eight hours. One would have no idea they were coming for him and the other, well, Petyr wasn’t concerned. That one was about as bright as his dead friends. Petyr didn’t even worry about him trying to tell Cersei the truth. She wouldn’t listen as all the evidence was overwhelming and the boy wouldn’t likely live long enough to tell his side.

Even if he did, Petyr had a plan for that too. Oberyn was right in more ways than he knew. Petyr was in a perfect position of trust and would probably be called upon to deal with these matters as efficiently as he always did.

Almost as soon as he walked out of the Lannister mansion, Jon rang him up. Just as Petyr expected, the new widower wasn’t mourning at all. The only one to miss the raving addict would be the sickly boy that was her son. Sitting in his car again, Petyr checked his phone. The tracking device was still active and moving with the girl. Petyr was slightly surprised that not only did she still carry the phone but that it was moving out of the city.

Either Sansa was hitching a ride or someone was aiding her and Petyr wasn’t sure which worried him more. Without money or anything else for that matter, she would be quite desperate and Petyr didn’t want to think about how desperate.

Once he dealt with Jon Arryn, which promised to be brief, he could focus on the girl that was steadily moving out of his reach. He should have been upset with her leaving him stranded at Joffrey’s flat but it ended up working out better than he had planned. When he had Sansa’s leased Jag towed to avoid questions and located his own, Petyr was able to clean and ditch Joffrey’s Lotus with the conveniently placed evidence for a boy on the run. He had to walk several blocks to return to his Jag and then rush back the club and pick up Lysa’s body and car.

After having cleaned and staged so many crime scenes for over fifteen years, it was easier every time. Petyr walked a ways to a small pub and tried to relax with a whiskey and cigarette. He knew where the girl was sleeping and was tempted to go get her, but events such as this progressed quickly and he needed to be on the ready. Dragging her kicking and screaming out of a motel with a diner full of drunk college kids nearby was not a good idea. Olyvar would be his alibi for his whereabouts and it was best not to press his luck. She didn’t have much money, no transportation or anyone to trust. She was a stubborn woman and Petyr didn’t expect her to call him for help anytime soon. He wondered just how distraught she would need to be in finally ringing him up.

Petyr returned his apartment above the Mockingbird and picked up her bags from his safe room loading them into the car. He had been following her movements to a remote area north of the city near the ocean. Many theories ran through his mind. He had a hard time believing she had upgraded to car-jacking or kidnapping. Hitching would not have taken her to an area, that by his satellite map said was accessible by dirt roads. That left two conceivable options. Sansa had someone helping her or even worse, someone had her and took her to some place far enough away from civilization. A desperate girl, that’s what he made her. Just how desperate?

He cursed himself as he set the Jag’s navigation to the coordinates of her tracking device. It would take him approximately an hour to get there and Petyr didn’t know what he was going to find. Just off the northern highway was a series of small roads. The satellite image magnified showed what looked like a small structure near the cliffs. Every fiber of his being told him to worry as he drove at high speeds.

The crimson hues of the changing sky made his stomach clench. Petyr couldn’t shake the dreadful thought that he had waited too long to go after her. He felt sure that she wouldn’t or couldn’t go far on her limited means but tracking her to such a secluded area filled him with dread. Her phone had been at the building for some time and had quickly moved southeast on one of the small roads. What scared Petyr was where the road ended. It wasn’t another house or back to the highway or anywhere for that matter, it simply ended near the cliffs… and then the signal disappeared altogether but not before one last call came through.

Petyr was surprised it was ringing at all. He honestly didn’t believe she would try and contact him after everything that had happened. When he finally picked up, it was a rough connection and he could barely make out what sounded like her breathing. She had to be in trouble if she couldn’t speak and when he finally said her name, it ended just as fast as it came. Petyr tried ringing her up only to have it go directly to voicemail. It was not long after that when the tracking device disappeared completely.

The following forty minutes were the longest in his life as he headed north. His mind raced with horrible thoughts and bile rose in his throat as he turned off the highway and followed the dirt road into the woods. The map told him to turn right and his heart began to beat faster. It was already dark enough making it difficult to see and whether he was driving into a trap. The last location ping of her phone before it disappeared was just ahead and Petyr turned off his headlights and eased forward slowly. The trees gave way just enough and the shadow of a silver SUV in the low light of a sleeping sunset could barely be seen. The driver’s door was ajar and the vehicle seemed to be abandoned but looks could always be deceiving. Petyr stopped and surveyed the area for a moment. He inched closer keeping a careful eye for an ambush but there was nothing and no one.

He pulled a small torch from the glove compartment and cautiously got out of the car with his gun at the ready. It was very muddy and his feet lightly sunk with each step he took towards the vehicle. It was cold even with his wool jacket as he tried to make his way through the mud without falling. The vehicle was empty but Petyr spied a large black trash bag and a bloodied cellphone and wallet resting on the passenger seat. He reached in and snatched the wallet opening it. Petyr shook his head. It was that of the ruddy blonde young man from that day. Petyr knew him as Jon Arryn’s nephew and not much more other than he was a player and didn’t want him anywhere near his little bird.

She had contacted the boy, that piece of shit, to save her from all this…  _from him_. If the boy killed her, then why would he abandon his vehicle with his wallet and phone? No, this wasn’t right, he thought. Petyr looked around the SUV and the darkening woods. Where could she be? The light of the torch illuminated very little as he searched for what he feared was her dead body.

Petyr called out her real name not caring whom, if anyone nearby, heard. Silence answered him as he turned towards the sound of the ocean. The setting sun highlighted the edge of the cliff edged with a few trees. In the diminishing light, a form lay low and Petyr’s heart sank. With each step, his feet became heavier as he shone the light on the figure wearing black and white.

Petyr knew it was her before he got nearer and an overwhelming sadness shot through his core. Laying with her back to him, she was so close to the edge that just a slight movement would send her over. He bent down rolling her onto her back and she was ice cold to the touch. His head dropped and he closed his eyes.

_I did this. This is my fault._

“Do it,” a small voice spoke that made his eyes open in surprise.

She wasn’t looking at him but the gun in his hand and Petyr swallowed hard. God, what had happened to her since she ran last night? She was scared and in shock but this was something else. This was utter defeat in the voice that once was so strong.

“Please… I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered in the cold. “Petyr, please…”

His heart shattered staring at the broken girl lying before him. He took this poor thing and ruined her beyond repair. Gone was the fire and lightning wit and all that was left was a shell of the once beautiful and powerful woman of two nights ago. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at her. This lovely creature gutted him as she begged for him for release. Release from the pain he caused. His selfishness and mistakes were paid by her. She was one of two last loose ends, one that he had always intended to tie up since the beginning. Somewhere in between, he found that he cared, cared too much to see her pay the ultimate price for revenge and his lust for power.

Petyr’s hand tightened on the cool metal and tried to find his voice.

“Is this what you want?” he asked reluctantly.

The girl didn’t hesitate with her answer, “Yes.”

She didn’t look him in the face and her eyes stared at nothing. She was void of emotion as she turned her head to the side. “You should have left me there that night. I wish you never saved me. Not for this. I have nothing to live for…this isn’t living. It’s existing. Finish what you should have done in my bedroom.”

Petyr thought back to the first time he saw her lying on her bedroom floor covered in blood. He couldn’t leave her then and he couldn’t leave her now. She had no idea how much he loved her. She thought she had no one and nothing. But she was wrong. He cared. He loved. He loved her so much that it was the main reason why he pushed her away. He wanted to protect her from all of this but he was weak. He wanted her so passionately that all logic and reason left him. He had made nothing but mistakes with this poor girl in his flux of emotions. Feelings, Petyr had been devoid of such for so long, and to have someone genuinely feel for him…

He had manipulated, seduced, used and still ended up making her feel love for him. Not once, did he tell her how she made him feel. He thought he was sparring her the hurt and yet he drove her to this end. She was here, now, asking him to give her peace, because he could not tell her the truth. He could not give her what she really needed.

The hand that held the gun trembled and he could not point it at her much less pull the trigger to end her suffering.

“Oh God, please… just do it,” she whimpered closing her eyes. “I tried but I’m a coward. Please just make it quick,” she softly begged and Petyr swallowed hard.

“There’s not a cowardly bone in your body, sweetling,” he retorted sadly as he bent over her.

“Don’t call me that,” she breathed.

“Don’t ask me to take your life, I cannot.”

He plucked a few dead leaves from her hair and she still refused to look at him. He needed to get her warm and out of this place.

“Then go and leave me here,” she demanded quietly. “I will not let you take me back there. Not to Cersei or the police. Go back to whoever holds your leash.  I will die on my own terms rather than theirs.”

Petyr wasn’t sure which avenue she was ready to take. The cliff or exposure to a freezing night up here. If he left, she would be dead before morning either way. Leaving her was not an option even if he had to drag her away and stuff her in the trunk to do it. She said she had already tried. Is that when she tried to call him? Now, she lay dangerously close to the edge hoping the elements would work fast or she would finally be forced to plunge to the depths. This is what he had reduced her to, he berated himself. The fact that she had not leapt, gave him hope. Hope that it wasn’t just fear that kept her from making the ocean her grave.

Pocketing his gun, he walked around behind her head and she kept her eyes closed waiting for then inevitable. Those tender blue eyes were shocked open when he grabbed under her armpits and hauled her to a safe distance. She was frozen wearing only his shirt and trousers. Her feet were bare and caked with mud. She was going to catch the death she so desperately wanted from pneumonia if he didn’t act quickly.

He hauled the shivering girl up enough to wrap an arm around her waist as she weakly pushed at him and protested. She got to her feet to move away only to sway on unsteady legs. How long had she been out here, he wondered briefly. She stumbled back and Petyr caught her before she could make towards the edge. He held her tightly as she started to cry.

“Let me go,” she sniffed. “Why can’t you just let me go…”

“Because you are stronger than this,” he told her firmly. “Where is that woman that was ready to take on the world? The one that disobeyed me at every turn?”

“She’s dead,” she breathed.

“I don’t believe that for a second. You have been through too much to die here, do you hear me? I won’t let you,” he told her with authority.

“Why do you care? I’m nothing to you. Nothing but piece on your fucking chessboard. I don’t want to play this game anymore. I’m so tired…”

“You’re exhausted and frightened. That’s why you’re talking this way and that’s my fault. I should have been more honest with you. That was my mistake. I thought I was protecting you. One day, I may ask for your forgiveness, but right now let me take care of you.”

“Take care of me, how?” she eyed him warily.

“We’re going home. I’m taking you home where you’ll be safe,” he pressed.

She was shaking terribly and Petyr removed his jacket wrapping its warmth around her. She laughed bitterly but at the same time her knees were giving out and he pulled her back into his arms again.

“Safe. I’ll get a shower and clean clothes before they come for me? Is that the safe you mean?” she chuckled darkly letting him hold her close.

“Cersei nor the Syndicate is looking for you,” he pointed out. Petyr glanced to the SUV and had to ask. “What happened, Sansa?”

It was some time before she answered in a monotone voice. “I shot him. I’m a murderer. That’s what happened.”

Petyr knew instantly that she meant the handsome blonde. The trash bag, he was betting, was filled with evidence and that his body was at the little house. She had driven off in a panic and didn’t know what road to take.

“Is the house clean?” he asked feeling her slumping against him and nodding into his chest.

“Witnesses?” he continued trying to make her focus on something, anything.

He felt her head shake as he picked her up and started walking back to his car. Petyr placed her in the passenger seat and removed his keys this time disabling the engine. He popped the trunk and put on a pair of gloves and grabbed a bottle of cleaner and heavy cloths. It took only a couple of minutes to remove the bag of evidence including his phone and wallet. Petyr wiped down the interior and then opened the bottle of flammable liquid and dumped it everywhere inside the vehicle. Making his way towards the back, he saw some children’s toys and shook his head in disgust. This son of a bitch was worse than he thought and that was coming from him, a killer, drug dealer and all around shitty person.

Petyr lit the rag and tossed it in and within moments the entire vehicle was engulfed in flames. Sansa’s small footprints led to the cliff’s edge but by carrying her back to the car would hopefully lead police to believe that one of the two people responsible here was dead. Only Petyr’s tracks circled the SUV, followed the other set to the cliff and back again. Petyr would have to call in a huge favor to Brune and it would cost him a great deal of money. The money didn’t matter. Brune was a dirty cop and easily bought. There were enough kilos of coke and heroin in his basement that buying this man off to make this little problem disappear wouldn’t be difficult.

Taking off the gloves, Petyr tossed them in the plastic bag and stored it in the trunk. He was constantly looking to see if Sansa was going to run or try anything only to find her sitting quietly watching him as he torched the boy’s car. When he sat in the driver’s seat, he noticed she was still shivering uncontrollably. Petyr cranked up the heat when he backed up and turned the car around. It was dark now and the bonfire behind them flickered against the dense trees. They had to get moving for the fire and smoke would be noticed soon. It wasn’t long before he found the highway and headed south towards the lights of the city. She was silent the whole way back to his house on the bay and frankly, Petyr didn’t even know what to say to her at this point.

He actually expected her to fight back or at least argue with him. He was prepared that she would most likely smack him but in complete contrast, she did nothing. She stared out the window didn’t say a word and that worried him more than anything. She wasn't angry, scared or even slightly nervous. She sat there as if she weren’t even there at all.

The garage door closed as Petyr walked around to the passenger door opening it. In the bright light, he could see now how filthy she was. There was blood in her hair and mud was caked everywhere. He helped her out and she wobbled a bit. Her face was sallow with dark circles under her eyes and Petyr wondered when the last time she ate. He didn’t wait to ask or see if she could walk, as he picked up the girl like a feather and carried her into the house. Considering how limp she was in his arms, he wasn’t about to make her walk upstairs.

The lights flicked on in his bedroom and he carried her straight to the bathroom instead. Petyr sat her down on a plush ottoman and kicked off his muddy shoes by the door and peeled off his socks. He quickly undressed as he watched her sit there. She didn’t look at him or anything at all. The girl stared blankly at the floor and didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t protest or show any sign that she was even conscious other than her glassy eyes and shallow breathing.

Petyr was bare when he turned on the water in the shower and tested the temperature. He knelt before her and raised her chin to look at him. To say her eyes were blank, was an understatement. She might as well have been a doll with glass eyes the way she sat there. Petyr unbuttoned his shirt off her thin frame before sliding it off her arms and pulling the trousers down leaving her clad in only her underwear. She had blood smeared on her legs and upper arms that wasn’t hers. She must had killed him at close range, Petyr sighed. He raised her chin again to get eye contact.

“Are you injured anywhere?” he inquired inspecting her body with a delicate touch.

She didn’t answer and Petyr felt he wasn’t going to get much more out of her right now and let it be. He didn’t see anything that would give him cause to worry. Right now, she needed to be cleaned off and put to bed. She was shivering when he unhooked her bra and Petyr wasn’t sure if it was because she was still chilled or it was his touch. The bathroom was steaming up as he helped her in the large marble shower.

The girl let him seat her on the bench as he rinsed her down with hot water. She didn’t complain or fuss but simply let him do it. The base of the shower was filthy with mud and forest floor as he cleansed her gently. If she minded that he was naked while washing her hair and body, she didn’t say so.  She was silent as he worked and his mind travelled to other things.

 _Harry_.

Could he use his murder as an asset? Jon wasn’t too bothered by Lysa’s overdose but the knowledge of his nephew murdered within hours could be something advantageous. Petyr could spin it to make it look like something Cersei would do. Jon was already cautious of her power-hungry ways since Robert Baratheon's death and it wouldn’t be that hard of a sell. The Lannisters and Arryns were the last of the big mob Houses squabbling for the throne of the mafia. He could plant Harry’s belongings and he knew Jon wouldn’t even question it. Hell, he only needed the thinnest of reasons to wipe out the Lannister name.

Petyr returned his full attention to the girl before him as he lathered her hair and washed her down to her toes taking her knickers with it. Nothing could be heard but the sound of the water running as neither of them spoke. Petyr rinsed her clean and could see for the first time the bruise forming on her left cheek. His thumb grazed it tenderly making her wince. Petyr frowned knowing the boy hit her and deserved to die for that alone. He couldn’t see any other injury on her unless she was raped and Petyr prayed she killed him before that.

Once clean, he left her sitting there as he quickly washed and turned off the water, grabbing a few bath towels. He wrapped one around his waist before coming to her and put the heavy terrycloth around her giving her some modesty back even though he had already seen, touched and kissed every inch of her. Petyr dried her long hair and guided her back into his bedroom. Her clothes and bags were still in the trunk of his car and decided he would go down in the morning to retrieve them.

Petyr sat her on the bed and went back to grab his plush bathrobe. He slipped her arms in the long sleeves and tied it around her waist. He knelt before her and took her hands in his. So lovely and delicate, he thought. He kissed each palm and lowered his head to her lap. Her arms were limp at her sides and did not touch him. If it was absolution he was looking for, he wasn’t going to get it. Petyr couldn’t find the right words to say in this moment. Somehow, saying “I’m sorry” just wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, sweetling. I never wanted this for you,” he muttered into her lap and gazed up at her. “I thought I was doing the right thing sending you away.”

Sansa was silent but something flashed in her eyes for a brief moment and then it was gone. She looked away and Petyr sighed. She had to be exhausted and hungry and Petyr pulled away. He touched her forehead and it was warm but not from the shower. Being out in the cold like that didn’t do her any favours. She needed to eat and rest.

He walked to his wardrobe and put on a pair of pyjama pants before returning to her. “Do you want to keep this on or something lighter?” he asked fingering the collar of the robe.

He didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t give one. He helped her to bed and tucked the covers around her. “You’re warm. I’m going to make some tea and something to eat. Anything in particular you want?” he inquired stroking her unbruised cheek. She turned on her side and avoided him and he couldn’t blame her. She would never trust him again. Petyr was uneasy leaving her alone. He didn’t know if she would try and harm herself but if she was going to recover, she did need food and medicine. With a heavy heart, he walked downstairs to the kitchen and prepared tea and food that would be light on her stomach.

When he returned, he saw she hadn’t moved from where he left her. The girl’s eyes were half-closed and stared at nothing. Petyr sat the tray on the nightstand and sat next to her. He ran his fingers through damp strands as he watched her.

“Can you try and drink some tea? I have a few fever reducers for you to take. I’m worried that being out in the cold made you ill. You need to eat, love,” he pleaded softly. “ _Please_ , Sansa.”

Instead, she closed her eyes and tucked her face further into the pillow ignoring him. Petyr sighed and moved to the other side of the bed propping up a few pillows behind him and laying on top of the covers. It had been a long two days and he doubted he had any more sleep than the girl next to him. God, had it only been two nights ago that they ravished each other? Petyr stared at her and smiled sadly.

It wasn’t just about the sex. It was her. She was his match in every way despite the age difference. Everything he threw at her, she took and tossed it back at him. Every time he thought she wasn’t up to it, she proved him wrong. After she was attacked, she still pulled through because he was there for her. Someone cared about her and he betrayed that trust by leaving her in Dorne and again with Lysa. She turned the tables on him and then poisoned Joffrey on her own. Even though Petyr shot him, she had willingly gone through with it knowing she might not live to see the end.

_You should have trusted me…_

Yes, he should have had more faith in her. _Trusted her_. His entire adult life, Petyr taught himself never to trust again, especially the ones you loved. He didn’t want to feel that betrayal again. He didn’t want to give out his heart only to have it stomped on. He didn’t want to feel that hurt. Yet, here was this creature that begged to be loved. Not from any man, but only him. This young woman wanted him and Petyr couldn’t understand why. Here, all she needed was someone to trust and love her. She already had Petyr’s respect but what she craved more than revenge was someone that cared whether she lived or died. Petyr cared but he never let her know. Now, she convinced herself that she had no one and nothing.

Hours had passed and Petyr was still awake. He leaned over the girl and found her fast asleep. Her hair was now dry as he felt her forehead. She was still warm but it didn’t seem it was getting worse but she was restless in sleep. Petyr caressed her face and hushed calmly. It was a nightmare, which didn’t surprise him considering what she had been through. He slipped under the sheets and pulled her into his comforting embrace. Almost instantly, she relaxed and Petyr nestled into her.

“Everything is going to be all right, love,” he whispered. “Sleep now. I won’t let anything harm you ever again.”

Just as he had comforted her, she was just as soothing to him as his eyes drifted closed. This is where she should always be. Here with him. He needed her as much as she needed him. Petyr knew that now. His arm held her closer and sleep began to take him. This is what mattered now, this lovely girl. Everything else was playing out just as he planned. Now he needed to focus on her.

Nuzzling into her neck, he found peace. “Stay with me, sweetling,” Petyr sighed. “You are loved. More than you know.”

 

* * *

 

It was cool but he was overly warm at the same time. Slowly, his eyes opened to the pale light filtering into the room. In the night, he had shifted onto his back and the warmth he felt was Sansa practically lying on top of him. She was holding onto him as if her life depended on it. Her robe had opened enough for her leg to drape over and entwine with his. Her soft abdomen was pining his hip down as her upper body molded into his and her head lay on his chest. Petyr ran his fingers through her hair and closed his eyes again as he kissed the top of her head. She held him tighter almost to the point of discomfort but he didn’t mind. His other hand lightly grazed her upper arm in soothing patterns as he relaxed again.

Petyr wasn’t sure if her choice to latch on to him in sleep was conscious or not. He rather hoped she chose to hold him and it wasn’t just out of fear or need that would disappear when she woke. For now, he would enjoy the moment for however long it lasted. Petyr was ready to let her go if she wanted to leave. It would be even harder now than it was in Dorne. This time he didn’t want her to go, and it would most likely be Sansa that would do the leaving of her own accord. Joffrey was dead. Her revenge sated. There was nothing else to keep her here, he reasoned.

Time passed quickly, when suddenly her body tensed and Petyr knew she was awake. He sighed softly at the knowledge. It was only her subconscious that held onto him and nothing more. How he wished that the other were true.

“Where am I?” she asked groggily.

“Home,” Petyr replied instantly and it was strange how honest it was. This was her home, if she wanted it for however long she wished to stay. He could sense she was thinking it through and waited patiently.

“Am I a prisoner here?”

“No. You can leave any time you wish,” Petyr said sadly. “In fact, your belongings and money are still in the car. The keys are on the table in the kitchen. I won’t stop you.”

Peytr didn’t expect anything less from her. Why would she stay? He gave her no reason to. Perhaps it was for the best. After what he had done to her, she would never trust him or probably any man again.

Sansa leaned up on one arm and stared at him. “You said that they won’t be looking for me. Is that true?”

“Yes. There’s only one person in Kings Landing that cares about Sansa Stark and Alayne Stone,” he replied taking in how beautiful she looked rough from sleep. “…and you’re looking at him.”

Sansa eyed him with suspicion. “So, you’re just going to… let me go.” It wasn’t a question and she already knew the answer. “Why would you do that? I know too much.”

“Yes,” he drawled, “yes, you do.” Her robe had opened up giving him a delicious view of her chest but Petyr’s hand drifted over and pulled the material together making her conscious of just how little she was wearing right now. “It doesn’t matter what you know now, sweetling. There’s no point in selling me out to Cersei for she won’t be around much longer. And Jon? Well, I doubt he’ll care either way.”

“You mean to tell me that I’m not a loose end who would tell him you killed his wife? You don’t think he would question her death?”

She was thinking this through very carefully, and it made him proud. Petyr grinned, “Well, considering he doesn’t care she’s dead…. By all means, call my bluff. Go to him. He has bigger Lannister fish to fry for the death of his beloved nephew.”

“What do you mean?” she asked and her eyes narrowed.

“There’s a wallet that I could most easily plant that would point the finger at his last rival. A well-paid detective just happens to make sure there are no conflicting suspects. Not only is no one looking for you in regards to Joffrey, but I’ll take care of Harry with a piece of evidence that a certain, brilliant woman thought to take with her after cleaning the scene,” he smiled warmly as he grazed her jaw.

The realization hit her and she pulled away from his touch and Petyr pretended that it didn’t hurt. “Why would you cover for me now?”

Petyr rubbed his tired face feeling the morning whiskers scratch his palms. “Considering all that I have taken from you… it’s about time I gave something back.”

His words didn’t have the effect he had planned as a scowl formed on her face.

“I see. Payment for services rendered…” she grimaced. “Men,” she laughed bitterly, “You’re all the same aren’t you?”

Petyr leaned up and was face to face with her and his brows furrowed. “What did he do to you?” She avoided his gaze and remained quiet swallowing hard. “I know he hit you… what else happened yesterday?” he demanded and her eyes flared.

“He taught me. That’s what happened. He taught me that there is no such thing as kindness. That  _generosity_ isn’t freely given. That the only thing I’m good for is what YOU taught me to be!” she yelled and pushed at him.

In an instant, Petyr understood exactly what she meant. The boy had expected payment for helping her and tried to take it from her. He would have shot the bastard himself if he had the chance. Petyr hauled the girl into his arms and she fought against his strong hold.

“Let go of me,” she squirmed. “You terrify me. You scheme, lie and kill with no remorse. You turned me into this thing and now I can’t turn back. I’ll never be able to trust anyone again. What kind of life will I have now? I’ve shot one man and poisoned another. Why the hell did you save me? Why didn’t you just leave me there…” she sobbed and stopped fighting him.

The girl cried hard into his chest and Petyr had never felt such guilt in his life. “I know you won’t believe me, but… I never wanted this for you.” He held her tighter and leaned his head against hers. “It didn’t start out that way. You were right, I was only using you. But something changed for me, sweetling,” he whispered in her ear. “ _You_. I never expected you. I never thought I could feel this way towards anyone… let alone a girl young enough to be…” Petyr sighed deeply.

“Tell me the truth. The truth about you and my mother,” she demanded between sobs and Petyr could deny her nothing. He owed her that much.

“She didn’t want to marry Brandon and came to me for help,” he started. “I was younger than you are now, in love, naïve and foolish to a fault. I would have done anything she asked of me. I stupidly thought that those few childish kisses and sweet teasing meant she loved me. I thought I was doing it for us… but there was no ‘us’.” Petyr stroked her hair and even though he felt tears against his chest, she was no longer sobbing. “When the time came, she chickened out and tried to stop me. I shot him, before he had a chance to pull his gun while she was hysterical at what we had planned. For her, it was one thing to wish it, plan it but when the moment finally came, the reality of it all was too much. I couldn’t really blame her, so I told her I would take the fall for it all. What I didn’t expect was just how scared she really was,” he paused and swallowed with difficulty. “I turned and the next thing I knew, she had picked up Brandon’s gun and shot me in the back making it look as though she was defending herself and him.”

“That betrayal gutted me to the core. This girl, I had most desperately loved, not only never loved me but used me to save herself and marry the man she really wanted,” he sighed in regret.

“Why didn’t you tell the police the truth?” she asked quietly letting him hold her still.

Petyr chuckled dryly, “Who would they have believed? The kid from the streets or the good girl from a notable family that was marrying into another one that nobody wanted to fuck with? Even though she betrayed me, I couldn’t bear the thought of her in a prison. Love makes you do crazy things. It wasn’t until later, that I learned she had accepted your father's proposal. Jon Arryn got me out and I was indebted to him and the Syndicate for taking care of one of their own. Brandon was tough and perhaps they needed a softer man heading your House. Whatever it was, I worked hard to learn the business and make myself indispensable.”

“And you never once thought of taking revenge?” she scoffed.

“I thought about it a million times, but… when I saw her with your father. I knew she truly loved him. It broke my heart for that’s all I ever wanted and it was never to be mine. I kept putting it off and then she had all those children. I just couldn’t. Instead, I used it as a reminder to never trust anyone ever again. Never let myself care or be so blinded by emotion… until you.”

Petyr pulled away just enough to look at her. Her eyes were red and swollen and held such scepticism. “All you see is _her_ when you look at me, don’t you? That’s why you saved me… because you love her still.”

“ _No_.” Petyr’s eyes bored into hers and he held her face with both hands. “I  _never_  loved her the way I love you.”

He was shocked at how easy the words came out of his mouth. Was the truth always that simple to say? It didn’t matter because it was finally out and a weight lifted from his shoulders. This truth he had denied himself over and over about how much he cared about this girl. He had never ached for Cat the way he did for Sansa. The need to protect and shelter her was so great that he was willing to make her hate him to keep her safe. He would kill anyone to protect her.

Sansa’s eyes were wide from the revelation and he didn’t know what he expected her to say to that. “Why didn’t you say this before?”

Petyr released her and smiled sadly, “Now you’re lying sweetling. Would you have believed me then? Understood why I was sending you away? No. The only thing that was important was keeping you safe. We both know you never would have gone if I asked you to.”

He was right. Sansa couldn’t meet his eyes. She would have disobeyed him time and time again. She was dead set on her revenge no matter what Petyr did to persuade her otherwise. His last option was to scare her senseless to make her want to leave. Well, it seemed he got one thing right.

Petyr moved off the bed leaving her sitting there. “I know I can never repair the bridge between us. The least I can do is try… and give you what I can to make a new life for yourself.”

He bent down where he removed his dirty trousers last night and fished in his pocket. Walking back over to her, his stomach clenched and his heart grew heavier. Petyr took her hand and placed the blue pendant on her palm before closing her fingers over it.

Before he feared that she would give it back or protest, Petyr kissed her forehead.

“Take it. I don’t believe in magic but in this case, I’ll make allowance. Perhaps, just knowing that something is protecting you… and if there was a moment worth remembering me by, I’d like it to be that day in Dorne.”

Petyr stepped back towards the door to the hallway. “I’ll be in the den. The car is yours and as I said before, everything including the money is in the trunk. I’ll guarantee your safety.”

He turned towards the door and stopped. If he looked at her, he would lose his resolve. “Sansa, if you ever need anything at all. It doesn’t matter where you are how long it’s been. You can always come to me. I will never turn you away or ever expect anything in return for my help and friendship.”

With that, he left her in his bedroom and retreated downstairs. It had been some time since he made coffee that was now cold on the table as he watched the news in the den. He did the right thing, Petyr told himself. He was honest and let the chips fall where they may. He didn’t flinch or feel any surprise at all when he heard the door to the kitchen into the garage open and then close.

 

 

 

 


	40. House of Blues

 

Sansa flicked on the light inside the garage and walked to his Jag with the keys in her hand. Popping the trunk, she found the bag with her clothes and quickly changed out of Petyr’s robe into her clothes forgoing any underwear. She slipped on a pair of shoes and looked through the other bags.

Petyr was telling the truth. All of her belongings, the things he bought her, the money, new identity, even a weapon was all here. He was indeed letting her go, now that it was all said and done.

 _He has no further use for you_ , a nagging voice said.

She climbed inside the drivers seat and inserted the keys but didn’t start the ignition. The pendant was hard and jagged in her palm threatening to cut her skin. Sansa opened her hand and turned the jewel around in her fingers. It was so lovely that day in the market, she remembered. Petyr was sweet and doted on her every childish whim. He was tender and she could forget what they were, what he was, for a day. That night he danced with her and placed the jewel around her neck. Oberyn said it had to be given by someone that loved you. Someone that cared. Like Petyr, Sansa didn’t believe in magic or mystical things but it was more the idea of it all. It was that he gave it to her. Without saying a word, he was telling her he cared for her. Cared what happened to her and wanted her to be protected.

That’s what leaving her in Dorne was all about. He knew she wouldn’t go of her own accord. Sansa was so blinded by her needful revenge and that hurtful betrayal that she didn’t see what he was really doing. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she could go through with it. He knew she could and more importantly, would. Petyr didn’t want her to be in danger or become like him. Oberyn tried to tell her the same thing and she didn’t listen to him either.

Once it was over and Joffrey was dead, it still did not make the hurt go away. Sansa didn’t feel remorse for the boy at all but killing him didn’t heal her heart. In fact, she felt even worse knowing that she didn’t have a full plan in play. His friends were upstairs and God knows what they would have done to her. Again, Petyr came in the nick of time and cleaned up her mess for her. That is what it took to play the game, to live in this world. Petyr had it all figured out and had a plan for his contingency plans. He didn’t go in with guns blazing with no exit strategy like she did. It was a different thing entirely to play at his level. Sansa couldn’t see the forest for the trees. She was blinded by one thing, killing her enemy.

If she had stayed and let Petyr work, she never would have fallen into the trap with Harry. Petyr knew, that day at the salon, that Harry was no good. He even warned her not to befriend him. Why didn’t he just tell her that Harry was a married piece of shite?

_Would you have listened? Or did you think Petyr was being nothing but possessive and jealous?_

No, she probably would not have believed him then. He was already taking her to Dorne to get her far away from Kings Landing and the toxic people here. He didn’t expect her to return, so he probably didn’t feel the need to say anything more about Harry.

_Petyr wanted you to fear him. He wanted you to need, to want to leave and never come back. He knew you would never listen. He knew you were stubborn. You didn’t want to know what was good for you._

Sansa sat there and pondered everything over and back again. She was still furious that he never gave her a choice but he did say that he did it for her. To protect her. He lied, but it was kindly meant. He wanted better for her. He cared. If Petyr didn’t care, he would not have gone through this much trouble. He would have let her play and most likely get killed. He would have turned her over to the Lannisters the moment she returned. He would have left her on that cliff to die.

But he didn’t. The game was almost over and he was winning. By pure accident, she gave him Harry to use against Cersei and by the sound of it; Petyr could sell the devil his own pitchfork for a profit. He didn’t have use for her anymore in the game but he still came for her. He saved her life once more and was giving her another chance at a new life again.

_So what are you waiting for? Take it._

What then? Would she be a paranoid lonely woman the rest of her days? She told Petyr the truth. Harry destroyed the last bit of innocence she had left. She would have sworn that he was a good and decent man. He was the kind of guy she would have fallen head over heels for months ago. If she had left with him that day, Sansa had no doubt that she would have been in the same situation but with no weapon to protect her. How could she trust another man again? Was she that poor in judging character?

She was alone with no friends to fall back on and no family to run to for help and love. So, if she ran away to a new place, it would be harder than ever to make new friends and she honestly didn’t know if she could ever trust a man after all that had happened to her. How would she know the good from the bad? She thought Harry was good and she was so wrong that she would have ended up raped and possibly dead.

Going into the unknown alone scared her to death but the man that sat inside this house frightened her too. She knew what he was capable of, what he did and could do. He was poised to take over the biggest crime syndicate in the city and that meant a world of danger for him and even moreso for her if she stayed.

Oberyn’s words rang back to her when she overheard him talking to Petyr that morning on the boat. “ _Heavy lies the crown, Petyr._ _There’s always someone else, my friend. Someone ready to shoot you in the back when you least expect it.”_

Sansa’s head told her to go but her heart wanted to stay. There was something, the way she felt when she was with him. He made her feel alive.

_It’s just lust he made you feel. You’re only infatuated with him. You’ll get over it like any other crush._

This didn’t feel like one of her schoolgirl crushes, though. Petyr was moving heaven and earth to make her safe and give her a life. She believed him that he would take her in if she asked it of him. He would come for her if she were in trouble. No matter what her mind said, her heart knew it was true.

The man that was old enough to be her father and more dangerous than she ever could have imagined buy would still take care of her if she needed him. He had killed for her, framed others to protect her and if he took a bullet and went to prison for her mother, what would he do for her?

_I never loved her the way I love you._

_Love._ Is that what this was, as fucked up as it seemed? Petyr was not a man to recite sonnets and romantic declarations of love and passion. He was a man of action, and that’s how he showed it. All the things that she thought were cruel, were his way of saying he cared for her. Loved her enough to push her away to save her life. He was proud man and Sansa couldn’t imagine he would profess his love to a girl her age only to be rejected. There was at least twenty years between them and Sansa couldn’t fathom what he had learned and experienced in the span of her lifetime. He lived with the hurt of betrayal for so long that he built a wall around him. She would be a fool to think that after only a few weeks that he would knock it down enough to confess his feelings for her.

Something told her firmly, that if she left now, she was doomed to follow his footsteps. She would be bitter and suspicious of ever letting someone in… letting someone love her and it hit Sansa hard. Petyr didn’t want her to end up like him.

_I never wanted this for you._

God, her heart ached at the indecision, the fear of making the biggest mistake of her life. Staying or leaving him, both had their consequences. It was a matter of which risk had the potential better outcome. Which did she dare gamble on?

The tears fell as she rested her head on the steering wheel. It was so much easier to believe he was nothing more than a lying, scheming murderer bent on using her but it wasn’t the truth.  Petyr was dangerous and manipulative but he had far too many opportunities to truly hurt or throw her to the lions and yet, never did. Part of her wanted to crawl back into his bed and stay there forever and the other part told her she was mad for not taking this chance to run while she still could. Isn’t that what she berated herself with since killing Joffrey? Why, oh why didn’t she run when she had the chance? That moment was here and now and all she had to do was take it. Even he wasn’t faulting her for running away.

_Quit feeling sorry for yourself. What are you going to do? Run away and mope for weeks only to face the same decision you can make right now? The worst thing that happened to you was losing your family and Petyr had nothing to do with that. You chose to kill Joffrey. You chose to leave Petyr behind to clean everything up. You chose to call and go with Harry. Take some responsibility for your actions. You knew the risks involved. You knew what Petyr was. What did you expect from him?_

Sansa wasn’t sure how long she sat there when finally a decision was made. She opened the trunk and picked up the bags bringing them back inside the kitchen. Gently, she placed the keys from where she found them on the table and walked towards the den where she could hear the tv playing.

He was resting, still in his pyjama pants, with his bare feet on the coffee table in front of the telly. His grey-green eyes registered surprise and a hint of something else. He looked tired, she noticed. The dark circles under his eyes and stress made him seem older than his years. A single eyebrow raised and a sad smile crossed his lips but he said nothing.

Sansa walked in and placed the heavy bag that contained the money on the floor next to the sofa. She fidgeted for a while thinking of what to say. She could have sat down next to him without a word and Petyr would have understood her perfectly.

“You might want to put that somewhere safe. I won’t be needing it,” she mumbled staring at the floor.

She heard him sigh, “You don’t need to make a decision now. I’ll be here. So much has happened to you, sweetling. Maybe it would be best for you to leave and really think it through. When you have it sorted out, you can always call me or come here. I don’t want to make you feel pressured into staying.”

“Trying to get rid of me still,” she attempted the dry humour he was so good at but a nagging feeling of insecurity was worried that he was trying to make her leave. “Do you want me to go?” she asked fearing his answer.

“I want you to stay more than anything in the world,” he breathed and added miserably, “but not like this. Don’t stay because I want you to. Maybe it would be good for you to get away from all of this… away from me. Seek some solace… gain some perspective with a fresh mind and then decide what you truly want.”

Petyr was nothing if not logical and reasonable. An undertone spoke within his words of wisdom that begged for her irrationality. There was hope there. Hope that she would choose him even in the madness she was treading.

“You said that… love makes you do crazy things. I haven’t done a sane thing since I’ve known you. If I had listened to my head, I would have run that first week. If being alone, unhappy and afraid is _perspective_ , then I've learned all I need to know. I don’t want to leave and then realize I made the biggest mistake in waiting weeks, months or even years listening to logic and regret listening to my heart….I don’t know how to make sense of it,” she muttered and kept her eyes downcast.

“You and I… it shouldn’t work. Common sense says it’s wrong and fucked up…” she breathed. “I can’t change back into the girl I was before.” Sansa gazed at him and his face was filled with guilt. He was about to apologize but she stopped him. “Don’t,” she paused tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to be that girl anymore. I want to be the woman I am when I’m with you…. Without the whole killing people thing,” she managed to crack a smile.

“I just… can’t imagine being with anyone else but you. But I’m also frightened… not just for me but for you. If you take over the Syndicate… won’t everything be worse? You’ll never be able to trust anyone. You will always be looking over your shoulder wondering if someone like you is going to bring you down. I’ll be an easy target and you can’t save me every time…”

Petyr sat up and put his bare feet on the floor watching her intently. “Are you asking me to quit?” His tone was delicate and straightforward.

“I worry about you. I don’t want to take this gamble and then find out you’ve been murdered tomorrow,” she answered honestly. “How long before someone comes for you because they want the power? Is it worth so much to you?”

Petyr sat there and was silent for a time mulling it over. “It wasn’t getting to the top that mattered most. It was… the game itself, the climb. It was bringing them all down,” he said pointedly as they locked eyes. “I was sick of being at their beck and call. Cleaning up their bullshite and making them rich. I was never good enough in their eyes…”

“You’re good enough for me. Could that be enough for you?” she asked with hope in her voice. It was quiet and her heart began to sink thinking that the game was more important to him than she was.

Petyr stood up and walked slowly towards her deep in thought. “And when I’m sixty and you’re forty, will an old man be enough for you? Will you then think you’ve wasted your life when you could have someone your age whom you can grow old with?”

Sansa looked down, touched his fingers, and smiled a little, “What makes you think either of us will live that long at the rate we’re going?”

She heard him chuckle deeply and realized how much she loved that sound. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I would rather have only one more day with you than a lifetime of nothing special. If I leave now, we both know I would come back at some point. Why not just skip that part?”

Petyr pulled her into his arms and held her for the longest time. “I don’t want to disappoint you, sweetling, and then have you regret this. You have your whole life ahead of you. Not every man is a Harry or Joffrey. A nice, young man could be waiting for you… a family…”

“And you know what I’ll be thinking twenty years from now, when I’m not pretty anymore, saggy from having kids and sitting behind that white picket fence with a dull life and a boring, safe husband that’s probably cheating on me with a younger girl?” she asked wrapping her arms around his back. “I would rather be changing Petyr’s adult diapers and slipping Viagra into his morning coffee while our children are plotting to take over the world… since, of course, we would be the most awful parents ever.”

He laughed hard this time and she felt it reverberate through her chest. That sensation was washing away her fears and all the horrible things around and between them. It was so wrong, it was right. He understood her, got her humour and how she felt. They read each other’s minds and finished their sentences. She couldn’t be like this with anyone else. They both were starving for love and here it was in front of them as twisted as it was. Petyr had waited for years and Sansa didn’t want to wait only to find that what she really needed and longed for was right here all along.

“God, we’re completely fucked, aren’t we?” he sighed into her hair. “You should sleep on it. You might feel differently tomorrow with a clear and rested head. I want you to be sure…”

“Petyr, there are two things I do want from you,” she interrupted him without leaving his embrace.

“Whatever it is, it’s yours, sweetling,” he whispered leaning his cheek on top of her head.

“No more lies. I want the truth, no matter how harsh it is. You say I’m strong? Then trust me,” she demanded quietly as he stroked her back. “I trust you completely. I want to know what you know. I know I’ve done stupid things in the past but I want so much to be your equal. Let me in. I’m not my mother.”

Sansa pulled back and the look in his eyes said everything. There was always this understanding between them that didn’t require words to be spoken. He knew she didn’t need more time to think it over. Sansa knew she would come to the same conclusion regardless of the passage of time. It seemed that the timing was right regardless of what horrors happened in the last two days. Whatever else there was, they could work through it. If she really didn’t want or care for him, Sansa could have left or even killed him if truly desired to. She wasn’t being overly sentimental or romanticizing him, but she couldn’t see how she could go back to being normal or dating normal, regular guys. All she could see was him. For better or for worse, they were meant for each other. There was no point in denying it any longer.

Petyr stroked her bruised cheek and smiled in affirmation. “No more lies or distrust, sweetling. You are one half of me. How could I deny you anything less.” He kissed her forehead chastely. “You must be starving. I’ll make some breakfast. Watch the news, I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting. Is there anything you want?”

“I’m craving orange juice. Anything else is fine. Whatever you’re having,” she spoke softly.

The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes smiled. “I’ll be right back.” With ease, he strode out and moments later she could hear him tinkering in the kitchen.

Sansa sat on the leather sofa and drew a soft knitted throw over her legs. It was a bit chilly in the house for autumn was in full swing now. Outside, it was lightly raining and that cool humidity encompassed the room. It was strange how simple it was to sit here after everything that had happened. Something in the air had changed quickly and an old familiarity filled this dark space. She pushed down those feelings of doubt and fear. Logic told her she was moving too fast. Hell, even Petyr was telling her to slow down and think it through but her gut said this is where she belonged.

Commercials played one after the other as Sansa snuggled down into the soft leather. When the news programme returned, they were talking about the murders at Joffrey’s beach flat. It wasn’t breaking news by the way it was being discussed. Since the last time she saw the news yesterday morning, the two suspects had been identified and Sansa held her breath waiting for the dam to break.

The first picture was that of Joffrey’s friend. The one that almost jumped on her and then escaped. His gun was found in the abandoned Lotus with his fingerprints. The police said that the bullets seemed to match the caliber that killed the other boy in the upstairs bedroom but ballistics would tell them for sure.

The next photo left her shell shocked.

_Ramsay Bolton_

What the hell did Petyr do?

He framed Ramsay for what she did. Petyr had been setting him up to take the fall for weeks, she guessed. The way he belittled him in front of the other houses and warned them that something seemed out of place after Roose mysteriously died. Cersei had made the Boltons her muscle when the Starks were murdered. Knowing her, Sansa felt certain Cersei would send mercenaries to cut Ramsay down for betraying her family and killing her son.

Myranda wasn’t just a replacement brunette, she was known to associate with Ramsay and Sansa was sure the police would figure that out. Or Petyr conveniently gave them the information, since he was her former boss. Of course, they would come to him. Petyr could spin a story like no other and she could hear him now. He would say that he sacked Myranda because of shady dealings and knew she was in connection with Ramsay. The gun Petyr used on Joffrey and Myranda was the same and Sansa was confident it had Ramsay’s prints on it. It was all coming together now. After cleaning so many crime scenes in the past, Petyr had collected himself quite the stash of evidence and kept it just for something like this to fall into his lap.

Her head was pounding and Sansa felt the acid from her empty stomach build in her throat. She turned her attention back to the telly and they talked about how the two men were on the run and considered armed and dangerous.

If she had never returned from Dorne, Sansa was positive both Ramsay and Myranda would have been involved or blamed for Joffrey’s untimely demise. Instead they were used to the fullest to shield Sansa completely. Anyone that saw Joffrey that night with a pretty and overdressed brunette wouldn’t think twice in believing it could be Myranda. She was always over-dressed and just as Sansa looked out of place at the college pub, so would have Myranda. Petyr had them switch clothes and no one would think anyone but the one brunette entered Joffrey’s flat. Myranda’s prints were on the poison and glass he drank from and the gun.

The media was spinning wild scenarios and no one seemed to question it. Ramsay probably killed his father and now was looking for more power. Myranda had connections to Joffrey and used her to poison the Lannister boy. To tie up loose ends, Ramsay shot her in the head while the other boy killed his friend upstairs.

The turncoat and the psychopath, that’s what they were labeling the two boys. Clearly, Ramsay was the mastermind for the other boy wasn’t all that smart, Sansa remembered. Petyr seemed to know that too in making Ramsay the primary villain. It would be easier to believe that this was the work of a sick, power-hungry low-level thug taking out key players. His name was even being tossed around in regards to the murder of her own family now.

Sansa wished that somehow the world would know what an evil, murderous bastards Joffrey and his minions were and what they were responsible for, but it seemed it wasn’t to be. Sansa would have to be satisfied with their deaths as retribution. The world would never know what sick fucks they all were and that they deserved worse than being gunned down.

There was no remorse or guilt for Ramsay, as she watched the news. From what she learned and experienced, he was a disgusting pig that took enjoyment is causing pain. She couldn’t even imagine what girls went through with him. It was all karma, Sansa thought with a smirk. This rotten bastard deserved any punishment coming his way. He would be luckier if the police found him first for Sansa was certain Cersei’s men would not give him a chance to go to trial.

Petyr was right, Cersei was predictable, emotional and rash in her judgment. Ramsay and the other boy would be dead before the police ever got to them. Joffrey’s friend would probably fair better with a gunshot, but Ramsay was sure to meet a grisly end. Cersei would have him torn limb from limb.

Ramsay seemed like the perfect fall guy. It was all too suspicious considering all the deaths not only in the last forty-eight hours but since her family was murdered. With only Jon Arryn and Cersei Lannister left in places of power, they would be highly protected as would Jon and Lysa’s son, Robert.

The only person that could get to Cersei now would be Jon or Petyr. If what Petyr said was true, soon Harry’s murder would be directed at her and it would only be a matter of time before she met her fate as well. Jon Arryn would be the last man standing with his right hand in matters of running the business. That man was Petyr. Jon was very old and Sansa surmised that Petyr wouldn’t even have to kill him. Jon would entrust the business to Petyr as a well-vetted and invaluable and trustworthy asset to maintain control in such chaos. Petyr was respected for his skill and feared by those who knew what he was capable of. Money bought loyalty and Petyr paid his people well and kept them in key positions. He may not have been respected by the old Houses, but that didn’t matter anymore. They were all dead but a few and those that remained could be scared into falling in line after seeing what had become of their counterparts. When Jon Arryn died, Sansa bet her life that he would name Petyr the head of it all.

Through it all, Petyr had managed to keep his hands clean. He made people very rich and would have the loyalty of those that were not high-level figures in the mob. Those people would follow whatever man-made them wealthy. With details on important people in government, police, etc… no one would dare cross him in fear of their dark and dirty secrets becoming public.

That immense power was almost stifling. Did she really want to be his partner in all that? Would he really choose to burn it all down and build a life with her instead? It seemed like a huge thing to turn away from, that kind of power and money. He had spent his whole life building up to this point. Did she honestly think he would walk away for a young girl he met just weeks ago?

_You should sleep on it. You might feel differently tomorrow with a clear and rested head. I want you to be sure._

It was a ton of information to process that his gentle voice made her jump when he entered the room carrying a tray laden with breakfast. Despite the turmoil in her head, the scent of blueberry pancakes made her mouth water involuntarily. He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat next to her on the sofa.

“Have they found Harry yet?” he asked nonchalantly handing her a warm plate. He spoke as if it were the most natural of conversation topics. Petyr completely distanced himself from these things and strangely Sansa felt it was the smart thing to do. She needed to put it behind her now. It was done and she must let it go and not control her.

“Nothing yet,” she answered as he drizzled maple syrup on her pancakes and accidentally got some on her finger holding the plate. Not missing a beat, he picked up that hand bringing her finger to his mouth.

“Shame to waste it,” he grinned cleaning the tip of her finger. “Mmm, that wasn’t a good idea.” Petyr released her and began forking a generous piece of pancake. “Now, I’m going to want to use that syrup on something else.”

“You’re terrible,” she admonished him but couldn’t stop the blush forming on her cheeks. He was only trying to lighten the mood. How easy it was for him to slip back into that comfortable personality she liked so much.

They ate in relative silence watching the news unfold until the finished plates and glasses sat empty on the table. Somehow, she had relaxed against him feeling full and sleepy. Sansa ate every delicious bite and didn’t realize how hungry she was. Her mind and body had run on adrenaline for almost two days and she was completely exhausted now. She tried to close her mind to all these troubling thoughts and just let herself go for a moment. The last thing on the news was reporters saying the police had raided her family’s home looking for Ramsay and found nothing and they were continuing the hunt for the two suspects. She could only imagine what her childhood home looked like now after the Boltons took it over. That place was dead to her and this was home. Yes, this felt like her home. Petyr was her home now.

Sansa didn’t remember even falling asleep when she woke. It was still raining and nature’s gentle music was peaceful. The telly was on mute but still playing and the time told her it was afternoon already. Had she really slept for hours? The warm body under her snored slightly and Sansa gazed up to see Petyr fast asleep and completely unguarded. How strange it was to see him like this. He must have been just as exhausted as she was. Pillows had him propped up and his head was lolling to the side of the sofa as his arm wrapped around her shoulders holding her to him.

Her fingers played with the soft hair on his chest and she felt his arm tighten slightly around her. Even in sleep, he was conscious of her, she smiled. Sansa couldn’t understand how he had such a calming effect on her. Laying there, she could almost forget the world entirely. In time, perhaps she could let the past go too. If Petyr met her halfway, she could get used to this again.

She glanced at all the dirty dishes on the coffee table and decided to clean up. He made such a lovely breakfast, it was the least she could do. Sansa got up slowly as not to wake him and shifted to her feet bringing the cashmere throw over his body. Quietly, she picked up the tray and entered the kitchen. Just as she suspected, it was still cluttered from cooking.

Sansa was almost finished when two arms circled her waist from behind and a nose nuzzled her neck. His voice was husky from sleep as warm breath tickled her skin. “So, is this what normal people do? Domesticated living?”

God, how did he do it? He was a completely different person compared to the calculated mastermind of only hours ago. Sansa wished she could switch off as easily as he did. Years of living in this business, Petyr either had to learn to tune it out or probably go crazy. No one would have ever suspected that the two of them were the cause of all this mayhem in the city. It seemed as though the rain had washed everything away and all that was left were the two of them. This was that gentle side to him that she fell for that first night he made dinner in the apartment and then again on the yacht and in Dorne. Petyr just had a way of making her feel completely comfortable.

“Well, you keep cooking the way you do, and I’ll clean up. Equality, remember?” she smirked leaning back into him.

“It’s chilly in here, I’m going to get dressed. How does a crackling fire sound with a pot of tea a little later?” Petyr murmured.

“Sounds nice, especially on a day like this,” she replied and then paused for a moment. “So, you’re not going anywhere… I mean, you don’t have _business_ today…”

“No,” he sighed and pulled away as if she had pushed him. “If you were hoping for solitude, I can make myself scarce. Anything you need.”

Petyr backed away giving her space and Sansa realized how she spoke as if she didn’t want him near her. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant… I mean, you always seem to have something going on, you’re always busy, or… shit, I’m rambling.”

“It’s all right. I understand,” he grinned and seemed to feel just as awkward in their new relationship. “I’m going to wait a while before planting the wallet. Once the boys are caught and… dealt with, I can work on the rest of it. Best not to move too quickly. Besides, there is someone more important that requires my full attention right now.”

Sansa was about to ask who, but his adoring smile answered her question making her blush and her stomach flutter. Petyr didn’t wait and trod over to her bags throwing them over his shoulder and disappeared up the stairs. When she finished in the kitchen, Sansa wandered upstairs wondering why it took him so long to change. She could hear him in his bedroom and didn’t want to enter in case he was changing. Instead, she walked down the hallway to the bedroom she used before to unpack her things. To her surprise, the room was empty and she found her way back to Petyr’s bedroom.

Rapping on the open door, she peeked her head in to find him hanging up her clothes next to his in the large wardrobe and her heart clenched at the sight. Already, she could see her perfume and hairbrush on the dresser. Some of the drawers were open where he had moved his belongings to make room for hers and the mere sweetness of the gesture was overwhelming. He was moving her into his life.

Petyr caught her eye and his face changed dramatically. He stopped what he was doing and looked lost for a moment. “I’m sorry. I thought…” he scratched the back of his head debating on what to say. “You were expecting the other room, weren’t you?”

Sansa was speechless and could only nod in agreement.

“Yeah, no worries. I’ll move everything in there. I wasn’t thinking… of course, you would want your own room and privacy,” he tried to laugh off the awkward situation and Sansa realized again that he must have read her reaction completely wrong. She walked over to him as he started taking out the neatly hung clothing and stilled his hands. Without a word, she snaked her arms around his waist and hugged him.

“Forgive me sweetling, this is rather new to me,” he said kissing the top of her head. “I’ll give you all the time and space you need.”

Sansa pulled away taking the clothes out of his hands and stared at him for a moment before returning them to his wardrobe. She kissed his cheek, and without a word, moved to the dresser and started packing the drawers with her delicates. Raw emotion filled her at the simple task of putting away her clothes. In an instant, it was no longer his bedroom, but  _their_  bedroom. Other than the pendant that was still in her pocket, this little gesture was the best thing he had given her, this feeling of finally belonging.

Petyr’s feet were still bare as he walked around in jeans and a v-neck jumper. His salt and pepper hair was a mess as he clearly didn’t care to take a comb to it. Sansa took the pendant out of her pocket and placed it on the dresser next to some of her things. Petyr glanced down and lightly fingered the rough stone.

“I had a new silver chain made,” he said more to himself. “I just didn’t put it back together since it’s been in my pocket most of the time.” Petyr looked towards the French doors and the rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon from what she could see in the mirror. “I’m going to grab some firewood and start dinner instead. I’m rather hungry unless you’d rather wait.”

“I am a bit hungry,” she agreed and continued putting things away.

“Anything in particular?” he smiled.

“I trust you,” she blushed, keeping her hands busy.

“Do you?”

He was being playful but there was a hint of gravity in his voice. Sansa raised her head and met his eyes in the reflection.

“Yeah… I do,” she answered honestly and then suddenly she couldn’t hold his gaze. . “At least where food is concerned,” she added with the same playfulness.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” he breathed and walked out of the room leaving Sansa to finish unpacking and her turmoil of thoughts.

The light patter of rain turned into a full squall as the wind raged outside and it was difficult to tell what time of day it was. Dusk came earlier this time of year as the sky was darkening over the stormy sea. Sansa put her toiletries away in the bathroom and smiled at the simplest image of their toothbrushes touching.

Walking back into the bedroom, music was drifting up from downstairs somewhere. Curiously, she made her way into the hallway and tentatively down the stairs. A warm fire lit the living room as the bright flames danced on the cool grey walls. Near the dining room and kitchen, a vintage stereo played. The acoustics and roaring fire gave life to the room that was usually so cold. Sansa padded across the cool stone floor to the phonograph and saw a few vinyl records leaning against the polished wood.

The music was similar to that of the first night Petyr made her dinner in the apartment. The record spun as the bluesy melody played and a man sang, “She’s a ghetto woman….waitin’ for her man to come home…”

Sansa looked through the different records and Petyr’s taste ranged from classical, jazz, rock n’roll, blues and even old school rap. He had quite the collection of old artists from before his time. Names she didn’t quite recognize like Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington. The song on the turntable was soothing as she let herself relax. Petyr knew how to choose the right mood music. It gave off a cosiness, warmth and most of all familiarity. He was inadvertently introducing her to so many new things.

“I like old vinyl. It just has a certain sound quality that I prefer over digital,” his voice echoed from the kitchen.

She set the records down and sat on the barstool facing him across the counter as he prepared dinner. The level of déjà vu was intoxicating as she drank in that old comfort. He was already half-finished with his glass of wine as he tossed pasta coating it completely.

“Smells good,” she praised, pouring a glass of wine for herself.

The corner of his mouth twitched and replaced the skillet to the stove. “Salmon should be ready in a minute,” he said adding a touch of wine to the pasta. Two plates were sitting on the counter and Sansa glanced over at the empty dining room table. “I wasn’t sure where you wanted to eat. I don’t think I’ve ever used that table since I bought the house.”

Petyr dished pesto tortellini, Sansa guessed with a filet of salmon and freshly grated cheese. She wondered vaguely how many different meals she could expect from living with him. The atmosphere right now made the horrors of the past few days slowly fade away. She was easing into his company again but unlike in the apartment, Petyr wasn’t trying to seduce her at all. He was quiet as he plated dinner for the two of them. Sansa took the plates to the dining table as Petyr followed with the bottle of wine and their glasses.

Sansa sat and her hand automatically went to her shoulder remembering him removing the sling from her arm that night. Instead, he returned to the kitchen only to grab utensils and serviettes before sitting down adjacent to her. There was no pleasant conversation like when he captivated her attention and taught her about wine. Tonight, they ate in relative silence with only the music playing in the background.

“This weather doesn’t seem to be letting up,” she said trying to cut the awkwardness. God, was she really going to discuss the weather? It was if they didn’t know one another at all and yet she felt like she knew Petyr for years. However, she was at a loss of what to talk to him about.

Petyr glanced out the window at the storm that raged on. “Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on working tonight. Driving in this would be suicide,” he casually commented.

Sansa pushed a piece of pasta around on her plate, unable to look at him. “You probably have to work tomorrow, I suppose,” she muttered and saw him watching her from the corner of her eye.

“Olyvar has the club covered. That’s the nice thing about being the owner, I can do as I please,” he said and Sansa could sense his smile. Once again, they were silent and it was becoming unbearable. “Are you trying to tell me you need time alone?”

The question made her look at him in surprise. “No,” she answered softly. “The last thing I want is to be alone. I… “ she sighed, “I don’t know how to do this. I just wished I could erase so much from my mind.”

Petyr leaned his chin on his hand and smiled sadly. “It doesn’t get any easier, unfortunately. After a while, you become desensitized to it all. It’s simpler when you don’t have anyone to care about and can focus solely on the game. I’ve been playing so long… and now it’s coming to an end…” he sipped his wine and contemplated what to say. “It’s strange to think that I have spent this much time on revenge. I used to think that it was never about finishing the game, but playing it. The game was all I had until I found a wounded angel one night.”

Sansa wanted to say that he still had the club and her but couldn’t verbalize it. She didn’t even want to talk about him taking over the Syndicate.

“That’s why I didn’t want you to kill Joffrey. I didn’t want you to experience this,” he added softly. “There’s so much pain behind your eyes now and I can’t take it away… especially because I’ve caused most of it and I’m worried I’ll never be able to mend things between us.”

Petyr picked up the dirty dishes and walked back to the kitchen as Sansa finished her wine. She understood what Petyr meant and believed he was feeling just as lost and awkward in this moment as she was. The game was almost over. Now what?

The record was finished and Sansa stood up and walked over to the phonograph. She liked this music and flipped it to the other side. The song playing hit home. Petyr was losing the game he was used to playing for so long and took enjoyment is bringing those he wished revenge on, down. And for Sansa, it was the spell that was finally broken in how she viewed the world and Petyr himself. She felt addicted to him once, that she couldn’t control the passion, obsession and crazy excitement with him. What was left was the truth. He was just a man and she a woman trying to figure out what was next. Was it just excitement and lust she felt or was it really something more. Could she be happy with Petyr outside of the twisted seduction of the game?

 

_The thrill is gone_   
_It’s gone away for good_   
_You know you done me wrong, baby_   
_You’ll be sorry someday_   
_Although, I’ll still live on_   
_But so lonely I’ll be_

 

Sansa felt those words as the song played and it felt so true. At the same time, she wanted to know for certain if there was something still there. He was clearly bent on giving her space and time but she was more worried that Petyr felt more guilt than true affection towards her. As if he felt he owed it to Sansa to take care of her now.

She felt his presence behind her but he kept his distance. Turning to face him, she decided to test the waters. She walked up to him and took his right hand placing it on her waist. There was a slight confusion in his eyes until she picked up his other hand and laced their fingers leaning into him. Petyr took the hint and swayed her to the rhythm. He was warm and solid underneath his cashmere jumper the Sansa felt she could melt right into him.

 

_I'm free now baby_   
_I'm free from your spell_   
_Free, free, free now baby_   
_Baby, I'm free from your spell_   
_Now that it's all over_   
_All that I can do is wish you well_

 

No, it was a lie. The spell might be broken, but there was still something there. Something real. She didn’t want to be free of him. The thought of not having this was too much. Love wasn’t just based on truth and trust, there needed to be forgiveness too. Her heart ached slow dancing with him in their bare feet. Regardless of everything, she still wanted him. It wasn’t only lust, she wanted every bit of him, the good and the bad.

Sansa felt the rise and fall of his chest as he held her closer. His cheek rested on the top of her head as she nestled into him and let him lead her. The heat from the fireplace warmed her backside and the softness of the sheepskin rug was in between her toes. She tilted her head and put a dry kiss to his neck that made Petyr lean back in mild shock. There were no words as he stared at her with a questioning.

“Don’t pull away,” she breathed.

A contention was written all over his face. “There’s plenty of time for… _that_ ,” he whispered. “What you need…”

“I don’t want to know what’s good for me,” she interrupted him. Sansa knew he was trying to be decent and noble. What he didn’t understand, is that he is what she needed. “What I want is to feel something. What I  _need_  is you.”

She brought his head down until lips met tenderly. Hesitantly, his hands returned to her waist and Sansa deepened the kiss winding her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to feel. Can we feel good for a little while?” she breathed against his parted lips. For a moment he waited and Sansa was scared he was going to pull away, but when his mouth found hers again, she sighed tasting the wine that lingered.

 

_Woke up this morning_   
_After another one of those crazy dreams_   
_Oh nothing is going right this morning_   
_The whole world is wrong it seems_   
_Well you talk about hard luck and trouble_   
_Seems to be my middle name_   
_All the odds are against me_   
_Yes I can only play a losing game_   
_But I ain't got nowhere to go_   
_And I don't feel like walking anymore_   
_These chains that bind me_

_I can't lose these chains and things_

 

The blues played on as his hands drifted along her back as his mouth worked wonders. The rest of the world no longer existed and as far as Sansa was concerned, nothing else mattered than right here and now. There was no need to rush as she felt his lips travel along her jaw and the expanse of her neck. Sansa was amazed at just how gentle he could be. It wasn’t wild or rough like their usual ways. Her fingers snuck under his jumper grazing the skin on his low back making him exhale harshly along her neck. She pulled away just enough to raise her arms up and caught his eyes darkening.

The silent question was answered when he grabbed the edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head tossing it on the floor. Sansa had forgone a bra and knickers this morning when she quickly changed clothes in the garage and was now bare before him. She wasn’t about to let him change his mind and removed his jumper in the same fashion. Sansa kissed his chest and wrapped her arms around him once more knowing he wanted her just as much as she did him.

His breathing became heavy as she caressed his back letting her hands move the waist of his jeans. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered with difficulty.

“No,” she replied, unbuttoning his jeans slowly. “Here.”

His hands slipped inside her pants cupping her bum. “Here,” he breathed but it wasn’t a question.

Petyr’s pupils were wide and dark as she started to push his jeans down his hips. He took over and kissed down between her breasts travelling down to her navel hooking her pants down as he went. Painfully slow he brought them down her legs as he knelt on the soft wool rug. Sansa didn’t know which heat was hotter, the fire warming her skin or the man’s mouth.

She knew she was wet before his fingers grazed along her sex making her hips jerk slightly. She was more than ready and as much as she loved his mouth, she needed all of him, now. She knelt down pushing him to his back. The flames gave his pale skin a glow as she pulled his jeans off his legs. Her hand found him hard and Petyr hissed at her touch. He drew her down to him and then rolled Sansa on her back. She was aching to the point of pain wanting him inside her.

Petyr rocked sensually against her spreading legs apart giving him access. His tongue circled her nipple making it harden and gave equal attention to her other breast. She thrust her hips up begging him until his mouth found hers again. With ease, he slid into her making them both moan. Sansa was already so wound up, that she knew it wouldn’t take her long to peak. She let him take his time and enjoyed every touch, kiss and moan that escaped him.

So, this was making love, she sighed. With every movement, he was worshipping her. Every single nerve was on fire even though his tempo was smooth and controlled. When he whispered the words she was dying to hear, Sansa almost didn’t believe her ears.

“Say it again,” she moaned into his open mouth.

“I love you…” he sighed and kissed her deeply.

No, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t ruin this moment with tears. The pressure between her legs was building to that delicious crescendo and strangled voice couldn’t stop moaning his name. He pumped harder hitting that sweet spot and suddenly she clamped down hard on him making him groan loudly and his thrust became erratic. She was convulsing around him when he finally followed her into oblivion.

His warm seed filled her and Petyr made no movement to pull himself out. She loved the feel of his body on top of hers and let him catch his breath. He finally rolled to his side taking his weight off her. The rug was plush and soft but the stone floor was still hard. His body blocked the warmth of the fire and the chill in the room made her shiver. Petyr touched her arm and goosebumps followed.

He took a moment and slowly stood pulling her up to meet him. “Come on, my old bones can’t take this floor much longer,” he jested. Leaving their clothes behind, Petyr took her hand and she followed him to his, no _their_ , bedroom. It was icy in here as well, as they both snuggled deep under the covers.

Petyr lay on his side and closed the distance holding her to him. He kissed her lightly as she nuzzled into his chest. No matter how she might deny it, Sansa knew she loved him as well. Whatever happened, this feeling was everything and all that mattered. She loved and was loved in return.

They made love throughout the night and when Sansa woke, it wasn’t just a new day, but a new beginning. She would find a way to make this work. She wasn’t about to lose him now. If he was determined to take over in Kings Landing, she would stand by him. Petyr was a smart and savvy man and she knew now that he would do anything to protect them.

He was snuggled behind her with his arms around her waist. The scratch of his morning beard tickled the back of her neck as he lightly snored and Sansa found it endearing. It was late morning before they even bothered getting out of bed. The sun decided to shine through the dark clouds and the clean scent of rain washed away their doubts and fears.

Sansa was brushing her now dry hair from her morning shower when she saw Petyr leaning against the bathroom door with a smile holding his jacket.

“I rather think I can get used to seeing this every morning,” he spoke sincerely that made her cheeks tinge with pink, but the feeling was short-lived. “I’m heading into the city. Is there anything you need or want?”

Sansa’s brows furrowed in confusion and tried not to let disappointment fill her, “I thought you said you didn’t have to go to work today?”

“Not technically,” he smiled.

“I don’t understand,” she said putting down her hairbrush.

“I’m meeting with Olyvar to get some orders and paperwork done. Because I’m not going to be in Kings Landing for a couple of weeks,” he spoke with indifference.

Sansa’s heart sank. He was leaving again and she didn’t bother disguising the hurt she felt. Petyr crept forward until he was directly behind her with a smile on his face in the mirror.

“Did you really think I was leaving you behind, sweetling?” he grinned. He brought the pendant around with its new chain around her neck fastening it. “I’m taking my love on a well-deserved holiday. Wherever she desires to go.”

This time, the tears fell as she gazed at his reflection. “Really?” she breathed.

“Really,” he replied firmly.

“But, what about…”

“Let me deal with all of that,” he stopped her knowing what she was asking. “You’re not to worry about a single thing.”

Petyr kissed the top of her head and put on his wool jacket adjusting his collar in the mirror. “I’ll be back soon. Two hours at the most, I think. I was going to stop by the market on my way back and pick up a few things, too.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and smiled, one that lit up his eyes. “I may give Martin a ring, as well. Do you want to go back to your natural colour? Soon, there will be no need to hide it anymore.”

“I don’t care right now…” she shrugged. “It’s not a high priority.”

“Whatever you want, sweetling,” he acquiesced, kissing her again. “I should be back by lunch.”

Sansa nodded with a smile and watched him leave. She walked into the bedroom opening up the wardrobe and felt a bit giddy. He was going to take her on a holiday. A real one. As much as bits of doubt wanted to creep up, Sansa shoved those thoughts away. This wasn’t going to be another Dorne. In her gut, she knew Petyr wouldn’t do that to her.

She dressed and went downstairs. Their clothes were still on the floor and Sansa picked them up heading towards the kitchen. She found the laundry room near the garage and tossed the clothes in the washer. In no time, the kitchen was cleaned and Sansa found herself on the sofa in Petyr’s den eating yogurt and fruit.

There was nothing new in regards to Joffrey and not a thing reported on Harry in the media. It was probably still too soon, she thought. Time passed quickly for when she checked the time, it was well past two o’clock. Petyr was late. It seemed odd that he didn’t call but Sansa tried not to overthink it. He probably was tied up with Olyvar. Who knows what happened at the club while Petyr was saving her arse the last few days.

Another hour came and went and Sansa rang his cellphone with no answer. Perhaps Jon or Cersei called for him and he was in a meeting and couldn’t take the call. Sansa didn’t have her own cellphone anymore and only had use of his house phone. She couldn’t even text him. His laptop was on the desk but password protected and Sansa huffed in annoyance.

_You’re just being paranoid. He’s probably on his way home right now._

By five o’clock, Sansa had left another message asking him to call back, but the phone never rang, not even once. Now, she was worried. She couldn’t imagine him ignoring her considering current events. Surely, he would have called if he was going to be this late.

Two hours, he said. Two hours at the most. He would be home for lunch. By six, she had already called the club and no one answered. Petyr’s cellphone was now going straight to voicemail with not one ring. Sansa tried in vain to remember Olyvar’s number. It was easy to forget such things when it was all programmed. Finally, the number flashed in her mind and she dialed him quickly. With each ring, she prayed for him to pick up to alleviate her fears to some degree that Petyr showed up at the club and that Olyvar at least knew where he was. When the voicemail answered, her stomach dropped. As much as Sansa tried to find a reasonable answer, her gut told her, again and again, this wasn’t right. Something was wrong.

Sansa had been through far too much to not listen to her instincts this time. She searched around Petyr’s office and found one of his guns. Checking to see if it was loaded, she took it upstairs and changed her clothes and tied her hair back. Sansa hauled downstairs and found where Petyr kept the keys to his cars. Pocketing the gun, she walked into the garage inspecting the vehicles. The only one she felt comfortable driving without killing herself was the black BMW. Running back into the house, she grabbed the keys and took a moment to look around. She didn’t know the security codes to the house and if she left, wouldn’t be able to get back inside.

She cursed loudly but made her decision nonetheless. It was going to be dark soon and Sansa needed to move quickly. She would be thrilled to have Petyr tease or berate her for being silly and paranoid but somehow she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Every fiber of her being told her Petyr was in trouble and Sansa was heading to the Mockingbird to find him.

 

* * *

 

 

  

 


	41. The Uninvited

 

I've never been wrong  
But you're the only one I trust to  
Show me the way, I always hear your voice  
And in my dreams I hear you calling my name

What is it about you?  
Some kind of light shines from your face  
And I can't turn away...

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The tires hugged the pavement as she made sharp turns at high speed. The canyon road that led out of the bay and towards the city slithered like a snake in the glow of the sunset behind her. That radiance was blinding in the mirrors of the black BMW making her squint as she tried desperately to focus on driving. The news played on the radio and several fires were blazing around the city in seemingly key locations. A brownstone townhouse that Cersei used while in the city was ablaze along with a few places that Sansa knew belonged to certain ranking people within the Syndicate. Petyr had said he wanted to burn it all down, but she could not imagine he meant it literally.

 An overwhelming feeling of dread could not be swept aside. Petyr was a smart man, but also an arrogant one. That arrogance, Sansa feared would one day be his ruin. Perhaps it was fate telling her this was never meant to be, in some twisted way. Just a few hours ago, everything seemed to finally be on the right path. There was a real future, a positive one just on the horizon, but in the back of her mind, she must have been expecting the other shoe to drop.

The small canyon opened up to the bright illuminations of the city ahead. The on-coming southbound headlights of those heading home from work were slow as she sped by. Sansa prayed she wouldn’t be pulled over and decided to slow down a bit even though she wanted to get there as fast as possible. What if he was hurt and she didn’t get there in time? Or worse, it was another one of his lies or she was completely wrong once again.

_No, you know that isn’t true._

Minutes ticked by slowly as she cursed at the slow-moving traffic in front of her. In what seemed like forever, Sansa finally neared the club and decided to take the back entrance through the alley. She didn’t know what she was walking in to. If she was lucky, it was only Olyvar and Petyr and they would tease her mercilessly for being silly. However, Petyr and Olyvar not answering their mobiles didn’t sit right with her especially after leaving multiple messages. Why wouldn’t either of them ring her back?

Sansa turned off the headlights as the building became visible. The marquee lights were dark from what she could see as she slowly approached. It was a few hours until the staff would arrive for the night and she didn’t see any of the employees' cars anywhere except for one. It was Olyvar’s. Her stomach clenched and pressed the button in Petyr’s car that transmitted the code to the garage door. She pulled inside slowly and parked next to Petyr’s silver Jag.

_So, he is here._

Sansa pushed down anger, knowing there had to be some kind of explanation but her gut still warned her to be cautious. She needed to think like Petyr and keep her cool. Blazing into the unexpected never worked in her favour. Taking the gun, she pocketed it in her black jacket along with his keys. Quietly, she walked up the steps to the back door and waited. It was quiet and she silently opened the door a sliver just to peek. The hallway was lit and she could see as far as the kitchens. Not one sound. No voices. Nothing at all. She glanced at the camera in the corner and hoped no one was watching her if there were others here.

She soundlessly made her way to the kitchen and looked around the corner. Empty. Cutting across the corridor, she pressed the button to the service lift and waited impatiently. The doors opened and she quickly got inside and decided to check the office first and then the apartment. As she stepped onto the plush carpet on the second floor, the eerie disquiet made her nervous. The office was only a few feet away and Sansa pulled the gun from her pocket. Around the corner, she saw the hallway was also vacant but the office door open. She creeped slowly peering inside only to find that the lights were on but definitely, no one was home.

Olyvar’s jacket and leather messenger bag hung over Petyr’s chair in haste behind the desk. No laptop, files or any indication that work had been done at his desk or anywhere in the office. It did not seem right. Sansa studied the video monitor on the wall searching for either of them. _Nothing. Not a goddamned thing._ Near the bar, it looked as though a few chairs had been knocked over. Sansa debated whether to check upstairs first or go to the main floor. There might have been a break-in and she wasn’t exactly skilled at using a gun. Hell, the only thing she ever aimed at was at a child’s shooting range with Petyr’s help and killing Harry was just dumb luck.

_Petyr’s not upstairs and you know it._

Sansa still needed to check it regardless of what logic told her. She remembered Petyr hid another gun under his desk and pulled out his chair. It wasn’t there. Even worse, on the edge of the desk there was someone’s blood and Sansa cringed.

_Shit…_

She put his chair back where she found it in case someone came back and noticed. She crept to the door and this time she could see two bullet holes low in the wall next to the door. Looking into the hallway again, she went back the lift and started up to the third floor. The soft ping she knew so well signaled the opening of the doors and Sansa kept the gun at the ready. This hallway was dim and empty as well. Punching in the code, the apartment door clicked open and Sansa waited before pushing it further. The apartment was dark and she would be a perfect target against the light. Standing against the wall, she eased the door open with one arm and held her position.

“Petyr?” her voice spoke with uncertainty.

Silence answered her. Her arm crept around the frame and found the light switch on the other side. Suddenly the room was flooded with soft light. No footsteps, no breathing... Taking a chance, she peered through the doorway and found the room unoccupied. It looked the same as it did the night she drugged Petyr. The evidence of their struggle still present. The safe room was locked again and the bathroom was bare.

Sansa shuddered knowing she needed to go back downstairs and it frightened her. The overturned chairs could have been from when Petyr fought with Aunt Lysa but she doubted it. Petyr or Olyvar would have righted any mess before anyone saw it. As far as Sansa knew, the club was running as normal since the night she left Petyr here to kill Joffrey.

She spied the rack of knives on the kitchen counter and decided to have a little backup protection. She slipped the chefs knife in her jacket pocket along with two smaller ones in the back pockets of her jeans. Turning off the light, she closed the door letting it lock and moved back to the service lift. The main lift was too obvious that someone was coming out and negated any surprise.

Breathing in and out, she tried to calm herself as the lift took her down. When the doors opened, she took precaution before stepping out. Softly she stepped through the kitchen and galley before coming to the doors that led to the VIP lounge. The small lamps on the tables were on but the ceiling lights were off that gave the room a murkiness that would highlight the shadow of someone walking through. There was no other way to get to the main floor from here without being fully seen and heard. The other door on the far end near the bar was creaky and had an obstructed view of the room.

Sansa took a deep breath and snuck into the lounge. The intense silence was more frightening than anything. She didn’t know if someone was just waiting to pop out and kill her or she was sneaking around an empty building all by herself. Visions of the assassin that Myranda sent ran through her mind as she glanced at places that a person could hide in the shadows. She remembered watching those videos with Petyr as the man had made his way from the lounge to the main room. Had he not tipped over the hookah, she never would suspected a thing and Myranda would have got what she wanted.  

Light streamed between and under the heavy polished mahogany doors leading to the main room and Sansa stilled. Easing one door open a little, she could see towards the cocktail tables. One table was damaged and a few chairs scattered. Broken glass glittered on the dark tile floor and Sansa could see a cellphone nearby. She gulped and scanned the area and couldn’t see a soul. She wanted to call out, but refrained.

Stepping from her hiding place, she closed the door silently behind her. The stage was empty as was the dance floor while she padded noiselessly along the wall heading towards the bar. There was a struggle here, there was no doubt about it. Both Petyr’s and Olyvar’s cars were still parked and Sansa couldn’t make any sense of it. She kept her eyes peeled as they nervously scanned the room scared that someone might be waiting for her too. It was then when she came close to the bar that she could see it.

 _Blood_.

 _Oh fuck, this wasn’t happening. Not again_.

It glistened on the floor from the lights above and made her stomach churn. She was standing at the end of the bar where she attempted to hide from the man that night and her hand trembled holding the gun. From here, she could see a shoe and she knew a man lay just beyond the bar on the floor. Sansa could not move. She was frozen to the spot. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to see Petyr’s or Olyvar’s dead body. She took a few steps and finally leaned around the bar.

_Oh God, no…_

The blonde was lying face down in a growing pool of blood and Sansa hated herself for being relieved it wasn’t Petyr. Her eyes searched in vain, as she stepped closer to Olyvar and couldn’t see Petyr anywhere. If he was alive or hurt, he wasn’t here to find. Petyr wouldn’t have killed Olyvar. It didn’t make sense. Why would his Jag still be here?

A bloodied hand grabbed her ankle forcing a high pitched scream from her lungs echoing in the empty space. Sansa glanced down in terror as pained eyes caught hers. Blood was running down his face from a gash above his forehead.

“Olyvar,” she breathed kneeling to the floor and turning him over. Jesus, he had been shot just above his left hip. Paranoid eyes still looked around waiting for someone to jump out after her scream. She leaned Olyvar up against the counter of the bar and cast an eye over the room.

“Ol’… is there anyone else here?” she whispered in fear.

“I’m not sure… I don’t remember much,” his voice strained quietly.

“Don’t move, I’m going to grab some towels. Here.” Sansa handed him the large chef knife.

She crept around the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka and a stack of clean bar towels. Glancing about the room again, she crawled back to the injured man bleeding on the floor.

“Alayne, what the fuck are you doing here?” Olyvar managed to spit out wincing in pain.

She lifted his shirt and pressed a few towels hard onto his gunshot wound making him grunt harshly. “Where’s Petyr?” she asked feeling behind his back.

“I don’t know,” he flinched again in pain.

Sansa spied Olyvar’s phone nearby and grabbed it. Scanning through the calls, she could see the number from the bay house multiple times. Nothing from Petyr’s mobile at all. Setting it down, she picked up the vodka and wet a towel before dabbing at his head. Olyvar stifled a yell that surely begged to come out.

“I need to know what happened. I need to find Petyr,” she demanded softly cleaning up his head. Olyvar probably didn’t have much time left before he passed out or died. She had to be cold and focus on the most important thing.

“I didn’t see him when I unlocked the door. It all happened so fast. I knew Petyr was on his way, but… Alayne, there was nothing I could have done. You have to believe me. I thought he was going to kill me,” he implored her as she kept the pressure on his abdomen.

“Who?” Sansa dreaded the answer that was coming.

“ _Ramsay_ ,” he said and his eyes bored into hers. “I didn’t know what the hell he wanted. I thought maybe he was going to rob the place considering he was on the run. He pushed me to the office and I told him only the owner had the combination to the safe… and then he did the strangest thing.  _He laughed_. I could see Petyr had entered the club from the video and I tried to be subtle and take my jacket and bag off to get the gun from under his desk but Ramsay smashed my head into it and I think I shot a few times. He dragged me down to the front lift…” he paused tried to catch his breath.

Sansa felt sick. She was about to check the main lift when Olyvar stopped her. “It was over so quickly, Alayne. I tried to help but when Ramsay shot me, I thought I was dead. I probably am regardless. I don’t know how Ramsay took him down. Petyr is not an easy man to kill or surprise. He was probably shot, I don’t know. I heard multiple gunshots…. The last thing I remember was Ramsay dragging him towards the main entrance and then I blacked out.”

Olyvar looked down in defeat and shame and Sansa caressed his cheek. “What more could you have done?” She picked up his cellphone and dialed emergency and he stilled her hand.

“There’s no point. I’m dead anyway. Petyr will kill me if he’s still alive,” he jested morbidly.

“Well, I won’t let him. Do you know where Ramsay might take him?” she asked pointedly. She needed as much information out of Olyvar before he likely passed out again from blood loss. She was no doctor, but she couldn’t feel an exit wound around his back and was probably bleeding internally. How he was still alive after laying here for hours was beyond her.

Olyvar shook his head and his eyes glazed a bit, but it wasn’t an answer to her question. “No _. No way_. You  _can’t_  go after him. Ramsay will kill you. And if he doesn’t… I don’t want to imagine what he could do to you,” he implored.

“Doesn’t matter, because I’ll do it with or without your help. I’m not leaving Petyr in Ramsay’s hands. That, I can promise you,” she said trying to sound confident.

“No. You could be 007 for all I know, and you still don’t stand a chance against him,” Olyvar pleaded. “You don’t know him…what he has done. What he did to those girls…. No. Petyr would kill me on that alone… putting you in danger…” he huffed in pain. “I tried to warn him about that piece of shite…” Olyvar said more to himself than to Sansa.

“I’m just his assistant. You don’t know what I’m capable of. What he hired me for,” she lied.

“Yeah?” he glanced at her with a sceptical eye, “I know he cares for you… enough to protect and kill for you. I’m not as obtuse as you might think,” he pushed. “If I know Petyr, he would not want you to come after him if it meant danger for you.”

Sansa pressed the towel hard making him curse. “Damnit, Ol’. I’m serious. Do you know where he might take him? If Ramsay just wanted to kill him, he would have done it here. What does he want with Petyr?”

She knew Petyr framed Ramsay for Joffrey’s murder but how would he know that it was Petyr that did it? Suddenly, the answer flew into her mind. Joffrey’s friend. The one that escaped. He had no one to go to. Anyone inside the Syndicate would have turned him over to Cersei… except for someone like Ramsay that was hiding as well. Therefore, he knew Petyr and a brunette Joffrey was lusting after, staged the scene. He also knew Petyr cleaned up her family’s murder to protect those three bastards.

Her mind raced and she couldn’t even think about the poor blonde that was slowly dying under her hard-pressed hand. Surely, Joffrey could have bragged about it to those around him but she knew he and Ramsay didn’t pal around together. However, Ramsay did benefit from her family’s demise. Roose Bolton took over her father’s place in the Syndicate and became Cersei’s new muscle. Only he died shortly after and then Ramsay was put in his father’s place.

It all started to click. Ramsay was climbing his way up just as Petyr did. Only he was using accidental circumstance to aid his ascent. Now, Petyr fucked that up by pinning Joffrey’s murder on him and Ramsay was losing everything he gained.

Sansa’s eyes closed in dismay. Petyr had pitted everyone against each other but that one fucking boy ruined everything by escaping. To Petyr’s miscalculation, he didn’t anticipate the boy would run to Ramsay. That had to be it. The connection. Ramsay was dead no matter what happened now. He didn’t kill Petyr, yet dragged him away.

Whatever he had planned, he couldn’t do it here. Too many people would be coming to the club soon and he knew it. Ramsay wanted privacy…

That thought made Sansa choke back bile rising in her throat. It wasn’t a quick kill he wanted.

_You don’t know him…what he has done. What he did to those girls…_

Sansa had to think this one out. The fires… Ramsay set those. Sansa knew it in her bones. He’s had Petyr for hours at least. He wanted the police to be distracted and she remembered the news on the radio. Cersei’s flat. Other Syndicate people…. They were not real targets. Just a distraction. All the targets were in the city and staying in the vicinity would be too risky.

Sansa glanced down at Olyvar and sighed. She could not leave him here like this. Dialing emergency to his repeated objections, she told them his injury and location. After hanging up, Sansa pocketed his cellphone in her jacket. She was going to need it. With the fires and chaos in the city, she wasn’t sure how long it would take for them to get here and Sansa needed to move fast. She hauled back upstairs and grabbed Olyvar’s jacket and bag. Locking the room, she returned down the lift and punched in the code to disable it and ran to the service lift to do the same. She didn’t need police poking around upstairs that wouldn’t do her or Petyr any good.

Running back to Olyvar’s side, she laid his jacket and bag on the bar and checked his wound.

“Keep pressure on it. Remember, it was a break-in. A man surprised you, you struggled, he shot you and ran away scared. Stick to that,” she instructed with ease. “They’ll be here soon.”

She kissed his forehead and stood up looking at his one last time. Olyvar gazed at her in astonishment and then smiled thinly. “Go. I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to.”

“Thank you,” she replied and ran towards the garage.

Pulling away from the club and closing the garage, she sped off down the street just as emergency lights and sirens were coming from the other boulevard. Sansa smiled, thinking that Olyvar perhaps now had a chance. He didn’t deserve to die like that. Several blocks away, she pulled to the side of the road and parked. She needed to figure this out. Petyr was all brains and Sansa needed to tap into that cool intellect for he probably didn’t have much time left or he was already dead.

_You’ll be dead too if you go through with this._

Sansa shook it off and scanned through Olyvar’s phone. She tried to find anything on Ramsay and there wasn’t much to go on using the Mockingbirds accounts. Numerous times he paid for girls to come to his father’s house when Petyr finally banned him from the club and from using the callgirls. She looked at the address and got an idea.

Pulling up the news feeds of the fires, Sansa gathered addresses and set them aside. Opening a satellite map, she made reference points on each hit from leaving the club. Cersei’s was the closest and had the most damage. She bet that was first. Looking to each point and when they showed up in the news gave Sansa a possible direction. It was a long shot, but she didn’t have anything else to go on. It was a shame Ramsay just didn’t take Petyr’s Jag. All she’d have to do is call Onstar and she would have a location in a minute. Immediately, that thought had her searching a locator app on hoping it may find Petyr’s phone. He wasn’t answering, but perhaps it would pinpoint his location.

As it downloaded, Sansa kept looking at the Bolton house fire on the map and tapped her fingers in thought.

_He doesn’t want to be in the city. He knows he’s too recognizable and Petyr would surely make a fuss to gain any attention. Unless he’s already… No._

She didn’t want to think like that. If Petyr thought like that, she would have been dead long before now.

She tapped the cursor to the north of the Boltons and suddenly it hit her. The Bolton’s old home was at the mouth of the north canyon leading to the last place she would have thought of. Her family’s home.

The news reported that the police raided her house days ago looking for Ramsay. To them, he would be a fool to return there. They wouldn’t expect it.  _The fires_. That would distract police to the central part of the city. Why leave officers to guard a deserted house when there were needed in the city?

Again, it was a long shot, but what else did she have to go on? He could have Petyr locked up in a warehouse somewhere, for all she knew. They could be anywhere in the city. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. If Ramsay knew Petyr was the mastermind, he might take him to a place no one thought to look or would consider looking right now.

 _Petyr would want you to run_ ; her inner scared, little girl spoke out.

Sansa closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was indeed scared to death. Was she really considering waltzing into the unknown like some badass assassin? If Ramsay took down someone like Petyr, he was not a stupid man nor one to be trifled with. He seemed to be more perceptive than she and Petyr gave him credit.

 _If it were you, he would never leave you like this. Petyr would come for you. He saved you so many times even when you were certain when you were on that cliff that he’d never find you. He came for you_.

_He loves you and you love him. If he were sitting on this information, he would at least try and save you._

She glanced at the map again and it seemed to make more sense. Each target appeared to be heading north until stopping at the Bolton house. Ramsay wasn’t about to take Petyr on the run and knew turning him into Cersei would do no good. Cersei was out for blood and would never listen before killing him. Of that, Petyr was right.

The phone notified her the app was ready. Sansa plugged in Petyr’s number and waited for the GPS to track it. Sansa wasn’t sure if these apps really worked that well or not. Petyr could have disabled ways to track him considering the work he did… but to her surprise, it pinged. The revealed location made her heart pound.

The one thing Sansa knew for certain, she was going home.

 

* * *

 

Taking the turn up Wolf’s Canyon left Sansa numb as she drove. The blaze coming from the Bolton’s old house could be seen as the road climbed up before taking a left and heading into the growing darkness. Sansa had forgotten how close Roose and his family lived to them. Her father had never liked the man and her mother had a soft spot for his wife. She was the only decent person in that family, Sansa remembered her mother saying on many occasions.

The road wound its way into the northern hills where only a few private residences were located in the solace of the woods. Her family had always loved their house because it was away from the city but still close enough for business. Arya and her brothers would run off into the woods to play leaving Sansa to her dolls and fairytale fantasies. She had begged her father to get a flat in the city so she could be around her friends and feel like a normal teenager that didn’t live in the outskirts. She had wanted so much to be in the city, wanted to be friends with people like Margery and Joffrey, wanted to go to parties and shopping. What a fool she had been. It was hard for Sansa to imagine herself from only a few years ago.

Sansa slowed down and stopped the car. Just around the bend were the gates to her home. Her heart pounded knowing what lay ahead and she tried to steel her resolve. Every fiber of her being told her Petyr was there. He had to be. There was no reason for his cellphone to track to this location.

_He would come for you._

Sansa tried to will the fear away but it was ever-present. Just around this corner was pure uncertainty. She couldn’t play Ramsay like she did Joffrey. He wasn’t interested in her and hopefully, he didn’t know she was coming. The element of surprise was completely in her court if she played very carefully. This was her house. She knew every square meter of it, the location of the security cameras and what windows and doors to use. It was very possible that Roose could have made changes, but she doubted it in such a short time. If Sansa had to break in, she would make sure to misdirect them in her whereabouts.

Turning off the headlights, the black BMW was practically invisible in the dark. She eased forward slowly and vaguely wondered if any police were still staking out the property waiting to see if Ramsay tried to return. To her surprise, the gates were open and she could see the faint lights of the house behind the dense trees. There was nowhere along the road to park without being seen and Sansa decided to pull down the road leading to her old home. There was a dirt road that ran around to the garden’s shed and she parked the car there and watched for a moment.

The front-drive was lit and there were two cars parked in the semi-circle there. One was old and worn and the other a new Mercedes. Very few lights were on inside by looking at the windows and Sansa wasn’t sure if she was grateful or more frightened at the aspect of poking around looking for Petyr. Even if she found him, she wasn’t sure how to hell to get out without getting killed. If he was alive, she bet he was most likely hurt. This was all on her now. She would have to kill Ramsay and the other boy.

_Is he worth dying for? You could run right now. It’s what he would want you to do. Olyvar said so himself._

It might be what Petyr would tell her to do, but it wasn’t what she was going to do. This was her home, goddamnit. She wasn’t going to let that sick son of a bitch win. Switching the phone to silent she rummaged around in Petyr’s car. Opening the glove compartment, there was another gun. Sansa almost laughed to herself. Just a like a deranged boy scout,  _always be prepared!_  Noiselessly, she got out of the car and tucked the extra gun in her jeans behind her back and his keys in her front pocket.

Sansa crept around the side of the house in the cover of darkness to one of the many back doors. The sitting room and kitchen were barely lit and it didn’t look like anyone was even in the house. Sansa was about to run over to the one basement door when she saw the dining room French doors were slightly open. She wanted to be pleased at her luck but at the same time didn’t want to take the bait either. She opted for the basement door down the stone steps. Softly pressing the handle, it didn’t give and she knew it was locked.

Glancing up, the dining room was dark and there were no lights illuminating the back garden. She could sneak in without setting the alarm if she was careful. Ducking low, she made her way up the patio avoiding the windows until she stood next to the open doors. She waited and peered through the paned glass. Taking a chance, her shaking hand pulled the door open just enough to slip inside. Her fingers touched something cold and wet on the wood and her gut knew what it was. Sansa hated that she was right and pushed down her fear as best she could.

Frantically, she wiped her hand on the fabric of her jeans and moved around the room until coming to the archway leading into the main expanse of the house. Just beyond this wall were the kitchen, sitting room and foyer. Soft light came from the foyer and sitting room but the rest of the house was still fairly in shadow.

A deep and muffled scream echoed from somewhere and Sansa’s heart raced. It sounded like it came from the bowels of the house itself. If she didn’t know any better, one would have thought the place was haunted. Perhaps it was her murdered family waiting for peace. Maybe they were waiting for her to return. She was supposed to die with them that night. Another pained scream rang out and Sansa realized where the sound was coming from.

_The basement._

She heard Petyr’s voice in her head telling her never go down into the basement at the club. It was as though he knew she was here and pleading with her telepathically to run away while she could. Another tortured cry filled the air and Sansa knew she could not leave. What would Joffrey had done to her if Petyr hadn’t come? Harry? No, she had to go on no matter how scared to death she was.

Leaving the dining room, she moved towards the kitchen and the door that lead to the basement. This was an old house that was in the family for ages. Her grandfather had remodeled much of it as did her father, but the basement was truly an old stone cellar filled with years of junk and the massive boiler.

Near the kitchen, Sansa stopped in her tracks. There were bullet holes around the foyer and blood on the front doors, the stone floor and along one wall. It wasn’t just a little spatter, it was as if someone had dragged a blood-soaked body along the ground. Her eyes followed the glistening red trail and widened when it lead straight to the basement door.

Petyr wasn’t dead. She knew it in her heart he wasn’t, but her mind painted a picture of what could lay behind that door and froze. The sounds from below rose again and made her blood turn cold. Before she knew it, she was standing before that door and her hand softly eased it open. It was dark enough upstairs but she didn’t take chances quickly shutting it behind her.

The stairs curved around and a faint light hit the wall below. In her dark corner, Sansa held the gun and tried to compose herself. Taking several deep breaths, she started down taking one step at a time careful not to slip in the blood. Poking her head around the corner just enough, Sansa could barely see through all the boxes and junk still left in the house from her family. The light was coming from all the way down from a makeshift room on the other side of the house past the boiler. Sansa had always hated that room.

Her brothers claimed it knowing she would never come down here. Now, her worse nightmare was playing before her. It wasn’t her brothers teasing and spooking her. Whatever lay behind that door had her imagination running wild. A male voice yelled out in pain and Sansa knew it was him. Petyr was here and he was in agony.

She swallowed hard and forced herself forward. It was very dark, and she tried not to knock anything over. The smell down here was overwhelming and Sansa choked back vomit rising in her throat. It reeked like rotting meat, as if an animal somehow got down here and died. Her free hand held her jacket to her face to mask the disgusting odor.

Her foot slipped in a puddle that almost sent her falling when she grabbed the stonewall. Looking down, her feet were standing in a black pool and suddenly the source of the putrid scent to was to her left. The hint of light that streamed through the small and dirt-encrusted window cast the shadow of an outstretched arm. Sansa almost screamed into her hand holding the jacket to her mouth.

She looked quickly to the light under the door and listened. She hadn’t alerted anyone to her presence, she hoped. Curiosity got the better of her as she fished her jacket pocket for Olyvar’s cellphone. With the tap of her index finger, the LED light spotlighted the horror inches from her face making her shrink back onto the cold stone.

Shuddering, Sansa gagged and willed herself not to vomit. She wasn’t even sure the thing nailed to planks of wood was even human. She had seen her father skin a deer before, but this was straight out of the worst slasher movie Sansa had ever seen. The man was skinned from the neck down and his blood pooled across the floor. Her hand shook feverishly as the thin light bounced on the gore before her. It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. The light flickered and Sansa froze in this gallery of medieval horror. This wasn’t a basement. It was a torture chamber. The light travelled to another man and then another. There, the light illuminated the face of Joffrey’s friend. His dark blonde hair matted with blood and eyes that seemed to stare directly at her.

Now, she understood why the last girl standing in so many horror movies made such poor decisions. She was consumed with fear that her mind was blank. She didn’t know what to do. Sansa was breathing so fast that she felt faint. This wasn’t real. People didn’t do this in real life. Her basic instinct was to run back up those stairs and drive as far away as possible but a wail drew her focus away from the terror that filled her eyes.

She forced her feet to move until she was in front of the wooden door that was peeling with decaying paint. A voice was speaking in soft dulcet tones as her eyes strained to see through the wide crack between the door and the frame. A man’s shadow was moving around but there were stacks of old furniture and boxes blocking her view.

“You’ll find I’m a patient man…” the voice drawled. “I have all the time in the world…”

“Fuck you…” Petyr’s voice dripped in agony.

It took everything Sansa had not to kick out the door and run in shooting. She had to be smart and stay cool. _Be like Petyr_. What would he do? A tear fell down her cheek as she tried not to hear his tortured scream once again.

_You can do this. You need to be calm and sneak in there. If he took down three men and did that to them and got the better of Petyr, you haven’t a chance in hell unless you catch that motherfucker off guard… it’s the only way._

Sansa clasped the old doorknob and prayed to God not to let the hinges creak.  _Please, give me that at least._ With a slow turn, she pulled slightly waiting for the inevitable to signal her arrival but it didn’t come. Holding her breath, she peeked inside and could see the man hovering over Petyr. Quickly, she slipped inside and hid behind a stack of boxes.

“…You’re wasting your time,  _little boy_. You have nowhere to go. They’ll find you eventually… “ Petyr huffed taking harsh breaths.

Sansa moved to an opening and could see Petyr strapped down to an old wooden chair. His right hand was bloody and she saw that his fingernails had been pulled out one by one and what looked like a long strip of skin had been removed along his forearm. Blood trickled and dripped down the wooden arm of the chair and Sansa saw both his ankles were duct-taped to the chair legs. A rickety table was next to him with an assortment of tools and suddenly Ramsay pulled up a folding chair and straddled it in front of Petyr.

“You know, you have completely surprised me Baelish. I never would have guessed you were behind everything. I have to admit, it was quite brilliant this little scheme of yours. Had you not tried to pin that pathetic worm’s death on me, I don’t believe I would have ever really considered you,” Ramsay smiled as he danced a small blade between his fingers.

“When the police came, thankfully, I wasn’t even here and Cersei’s thugs are so fucking predictable. I knew they were following me. But lucky, lucky me that I came across Michael. Joffrey’s little minion has proved most helpful… it’s amazing how truthful a person can be when you’re flaying them alive…”

 _Michael_ … Sansa could never remember that bastards name. She hated them and thought of many different ways to punish them, but even she could never have done something like that to him. Sansa held the gun tight and stepped lightly trying to find an angle to shoot from but she couldn’t hit him from here. Sansa was no marksman. She would miss and probably hit Petyr. No, she needed to get closer and hoped the element of surprise would be her advantage.

“You know what’s funny? I think you’ll find this very entertaining at the least. Joffrey, that weak fuck, never would have gunned down the Starks if I hadn’t ridiculed and egged him on. He didn’t have the balls to kill. I was rather shocked that he managed to pull it off so well,” Ramsay laughed. “Oh, little did I know that you came in and cleaned up his fucking mess. Tell me, how bad did he fuck it up? Must have been bad if you collected their guns. Dumb shits… I can’t believe they gave every bit of evidence to you.”

Petyr managed to smile. “You’d be amazed at how fucking stupid people are. You, for instance.”

“Yes, I did wonder how you managed to get a hold of one of my guns. That I admit that was careless of me. But killing both Joffrey and Myranda with my gun was a stroke of genius on your part. You managed to connect me in so many ways. I should have seen it coming especially during that last meeting after I killed my father. I really was a little too proud of myself… arrogant. It can certainly make you blind to things,” he smirked. “I had it all planned out on just how easy it would be to knock off the remaining houses that had any control….” Ramsay reminisced in sick delight. “Ah, but you’ve changed that now.”

The men stared at each other and this time Petyr chuckled. “You really thought you’d climb to the top of this shit pile and run it?” He roared with laughter making his chest heave.

“Jealous, that I was about to take it from you? How long have you been playing this game, ten, twenty years? We’re very similar you and I. Both coming from nothing and teaching those fucking idiots what it really takes to take charge,” Ramsay chortled.

“Well, you won’t be running anything. And we’re nothing alike, so you might as well stop wasting my time,” Petyr stared at him with a stone face.

“You’re right, you like the game but something tells me you don’t enjoy killing. Never really got your hands dirty,” the man grinned wielding the knife. “How could you know how blissful it is when you’re not willing to do it yourself?” Ramsay plunged the knife deep into Petyr’s hand embedding it to the chair arm making Petyr curse. She saw glass on the floor and stepped around it afraid of giving herself away. “The sweet song of hearing them beg and… plead. Wishing the pain would stop. That little moment of pure excitement when they think it’s going to stop… and then you take all their hope away…”

Sansa moved around to the wall where she could get behind him and have a clear shot. She heard a box open and Petyr started cursing.

“No...You fucking son of a bitch… _no !_ ”

He screamed so loud that it went through her soul as she moved faster navigating in the dark room. She was almost there…

“I’ll tear your fucking spine out, I swear to God. You better fucking make sure I’m dead….I  _will_  kill you!” Petyr spat in pain.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Ramsay said with glee. “I don’t want to run things. I’m burning it down. I’m going to kill Cersei, Arryn, the Tyrells.... and you know what I’m going to have for dessert?  _Revenge_. I’m not killing you just yet. I’m going to find your pretty little girl and bring her back here…”

Sansa tightened her hand on the gun and could see them just a few feet away. She held her breath.

“…I’ll fuck her in front of you and let you watch as I peel the skin off her face while she screams…”

Sansa came around the boxes and took one step. The crunch of glass sounded loudly and Ramsay turned his head. She closed one eye and fired but he was already moving. She fired again and again almost hitting Petyr and before she could fire again, Ramsay had ducked around a pile of crates and was gone.

_Shit! Shit! Shit! I missed him and now we're were both fucked!_

“Get the fuck out of here! Go!” Petyr roared.

Then Ramsay’s sick laugh echoed in the dark room. “Oh ho! Look who has come to play!”

Sansa ran to Petyr and saw that not only was his hand pinned to the chair with a knife, but sick bastard had poured salt on his open wounds. Ramsay’s sing-song voice moved around in the darkness as Petyr begged her to run. Her eyes danced around the room and knew Ramsay was playing with them.

“Let’s play a game. You say ‘Marco’ and I’ll say ‘Polo’… and we’ll see if you can find me,” he laughed and Sansa followed his voice with the gun taking a shot and hitting a stack of boxes. “Come on….  _Marco_ ….”

A pile of chairs toppled over and she fired two shots. “ _Polo_ …” he echoed menacingly.

“No… _Wait for it_ ,” Petyr softly instructed from behind her. Sansa’s eyes were frantic and darted all over the room. “Don’t waste your ammunition.”

Ramsay roared in laughter, “MARCO!”

A chair flew from the corner and broke apart by the table making her scream. Sansa held her ground and waited. If he had a gun, he would have fired it at her by now. This was a game to him. He fully intended to do what he threatened Petyr a moment ago. She felt like she was going in circles following him and it was making her dizzy.

“Polo…” a whisper seemed to come from over her shoulder and she yelped spinning around only to see nothing and fired again by accident. Her hands were shaking terribly and she was certain now, she would never hit him and they were both dead.

“1, 2, 3, 4…” he sang, “how many bullets will hit the floor…”

“Keep both eyes open… hold your breath… aim… “ Petyr’s voice tried to overcome that of the sick, childish song in the dark.

“5, 6, 7, 8....” the voice continued, “how long will she take the bait…”

The sneer and twisted snicker scared her to death and suddenly it was quiet. She turned around and around. Petyr was looking just as anxiously watching her back. “Petyr…” she whimpered in fear.

“BEHIND YOU!!!” he roared.

In a flash, Sansa whipped around opening both her eyes wide and fired round after round towards the man charging at her. Ramsay slammed into the table and toppled to the floor. She had emptied the chamber and kept trying to pull the trigger. The man was dead on the floor as blood began to pool. Sansa remembered the other gun and pulled it from her jeans.  
  
“Check him, be sure…” Petyr directed behind her.

Scared out of her mind, Sansa pushed Ramsay’s body with her foot turning him slightly on his side. Dead eyes stared at nothing. She actually hit him not once, but a few times, she thought in astonishment. She could scarcely breathe when she spoke and she didn’t want to touch him.

“He’s dead,” she muttered. The need to vomit was overpowering as she felt her diaphragm clench as she leaned over the table.

“We need to get out of here,” Petyr’s voiced echoed softly. “Focus, sweetling….”

She blinked a few times and glanced down at the dead man at her feet. Placing the gun in the back of her jeans again, she turned to Petyr strapped in the chair. His right hand and arm were completely mangled and the knife was lodged just below his knuckles. “Fuck…” she said to herself.

“Just make it quick,” he huffed in pain furrowing his eyebrows.

Sansa leaned over his hand and gently grasped the hilt forcing a grunt from him and began to second-guess herself. “What if I make it worse? I have a phone, maybe I should call for help…”

“Just fucking do I as I say…” he demanded and Sansa gripped it and yanked it hard freeing his hand as he cursed loudly. She cut the duct tape holding down his wrists and moved to his feet.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” she said taking off her jacket and ripping the bottom away to use as a bandage.

“Listen to me, I need you to get out of here…” Petyr said standing up slowly.

She looked at him incredulously. “What? I’m not leaving you here! Are you mad?”

“I don’t want anyone to know about you, do you understand? Go back to the house…”

“After everything I did to find you? I am NOT leaving you. We leave together or not at all, you hear me?” she snapped continuing to tear the fabric.

“I’m not arguing with you…I’m telling you. Do as I say, goddamnit!”

“When was the last time I actually did that? I’m not doing it now,” she smiled at him.

Sansa wanted to slap him in his stubbornness when she saw Petyr’s eyes widen and move to pull the gun from her jeans almost twirling her around. In the blink of an eye, she saw Ramsay aim at them from the floor and heard the two guns fire simultaneously.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

Petyr winced as a sharp sting etched his side. Ramsay slumped with shots to his face and the small gun clattered to the stone floor. Petyr cursed himself for not demanding she fully pat him down. The man must have had the gun on him the entire time. Looking down, the bullet seemed to only graze his right side. His hand was searing with pain as his blood coated the gun. Just as relief began to wash over him, fingers clawed into his shoulders as the girl had turned and leaned against him.

His hands automatically went to her waist to steady her when he felt it. Petyr looked down slightly pulling her away from him.

_Oh, Jesus Christ… no…_

The blood wasn’t his but her own that drenched her black shirt. His fingers felt around the hole beneath her ribs along her right side and around to her back. Petyr closed his eyes. The bullet he felt sting his side had come straight through her. She clenched him tighter and their eyes met and said everything. Her lovely blue eyes were wide and filled with fear and pain and Petyr had wished so many times never to see that ever again. Her knees gave a little as his good arm drew her to him and grabbed the remains of her jacket.

“Come on, love, it’s time to walk,” he grunted pulling her with him. Her feet dragged slightly but followed him nonetheless. “We need to get you to a hospital.” He grabbed his cellphone sitting on the table and shoved it in his pocket, tucking the gun behind his back in his trousers.

It was hard getting up the stairs. His mangled hand held on to the wooden rail pulling both of them up a few steps at a time. “Almost there, you can do it,” he praised her. “You’re doing good.” She was whimpering in pain with each movement and it broke him.

Petyr debated once in the kitchen to just call emergency and wait while putting pressure on her wound. The growing wetness meant she was losing blood too fast. Unlike the first time so many nights ago, this was far more serious than a shot to her shoulder. The bullet had passed through and Petyr tried prayed that it had not hit a major organ like the liver or kidney. She would probably die before even getting to a hospital. Sansa, he feared, didn’t have time to wait for paramedics to arrive this far out of the city. He couldn’t even hope for a lifeflight do to the dense woods. There would be nowhere to land. No, time was something Sansa didn’t have.

He pulled her through the front doors and hoped at least one car was unlocked and he could hotwire it quickly. As if reading his mind, she breathed out in pain. “The keys are in my pocket. BMW is by the shed over there…”

Petyr tried to smile, “That’s my smart girl.” He had never felt such fear before. The car was further than he expected. It would take longer to drag her there than to run over and drive it to her. Petyr sat her down on the cold stone steps in front of the drive.

“Keep pressure on it. You’re going to be okay. I’m going for the car,” he told her and wasted no time is sprinting across the garden.

Seconds ticked by and he felt the time pulse in his veins. Before he knew it, he roared the car around to pick her up. She was leaning against the railing as he got out and came to her side putting her arm around his neck. Suddenly, she started to chuckle lowly as her breathing labored.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she half-smiled with her eyes closed.

“What’s that love?” he asked drawing her up to stand.

“I’ve been living on borrowed time,” she said looking up at his face. “I was always meant to die here, wasn’t I?”

Petyr hardened himself and pulled her to the open passenger door of the car. “You are not dying here, do you understand? I won’t allow it. I didn’t save your damn life that night only to let you go now.”

He got her into the seat with effort and pressed the jacket into her abdomen making her cry out. Placing her bloody hands on top of it, Petyr told her to hold it there as he got into the drivers seat.

He hit the pedal and tore out of the driveway onto the small road heading towards the city. It was difficult keeping hold of the steering wheel as his palm was slick with fresh blood oozing from his hand.

“Call Pycelle,” he commanded the car. It rang and rang and Petyr cursed, “Pick up you son of a bitch…”

“Baelish, I don’t have time, we have a mess over at Lannister’s flat on fourth avenue…” a tired voice answered.

“Pycelle, shut up and listen. I will triple your fee. I need a surgical team immediately. I won’t make it to the hospital. I need the warehouse. Call your people and fucking make it happen,” he demanded glancing to Sansa on his left.

“Christ’s sake… this isn’t just  _anyone_  Baelish…It’s Cersei  _Lannister,_ ” the old man retorted in fear. “I can have an ambulance meet you…”

“Not enough time. I’m coming down Wolf’s Canyon now. You can have your team there in less time and ready. I’m not taking the chance with the emergency room and a resident that hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours. The Lannisters are finished. It’s Jon and me, now. Time to test your loyalty,” he demanded and then didn’t want to waste another second haggling. “Name your fucking price and it’s yours. You’ll find me very generous tonight,” Petyr offered taking a sharp turn heading down the canyon.

The man sighed but acquiesced, “Triple… and I want that Piscasso I saw in your club.”

“Done,” Petyr replied without a second’s thought. “I have a female, twenty, gunshot to the right abdomen… the bullet went straight through as far as I know. I’m keeping pressure on it best I can but she’s losing blood…”

“Keep the pressure and I’ll meet you there,” Pycelled replied.

“I want your best people, Py, you know I will pay them handsomely,” he instructed firmly.

Petyr disconnected the call and looked at Sansa. Her eyes were closed and brows furrowed in agony. “Open your eyes, baby,” he said loudly. “You need to stay awake, you hear me? Stay with me.”

Her breathing was shallow and Petyr switched gears hauling down the canyon even faster. His rapid heartbeat was pumping in his ears and it felt like the world was moving in slow motion. His bloody hand was slipping on the wheel making it hard to grip taking a tight corner as the car sped down the canyon at speeds as high as it could take without sending them over the cliff's edge. The pain was excruciating but he let his adrenaline take over and focused on the road. He was light-headed and wondered how much blood he had lost after Ramsay tore his hand apart.

Petyr kept talking to her so she wouldn’t nod off. Sansa needed to fight and he was worried she was giving up too easily. This poor girl had been through so much, he wasn’t about to let it end for her like this. The canyon opened up to the bright city lights and Petyr saw the fire roaring at what seemed to be the Bolton’s old house. He blazed through an intersection making two cars skid as they braked not to hit him. Fuck, he didn’t care if the police followed him at this point. The only thing that mattered was getting her to a surgeon. Glancing back to her, Petyr saw her head start to drift down and suddenly pressed hard with his hand to her abdomen. A wail erupted from her lungs that tore at his heart but he pushed down feeling the jacket and her hands under his.

“Pain means you’re still alive,” he told her coldly. “Don’t you give up now… you hear me?”

One of her hands covered his as he heard a small sob. “I guess it doesn’t work after all.”

 _Keep her talking_ , Petyr told himself. _Keep her lucid and alive_. 

“What doesn’t work, sweetling?” he asked taking a right turn.

“The necklace…” she breathed. “It was a nice idea, though…”

Fear coursed through him. Petyr didn’t like the way she was talking. She was giving up.

“I don’t believe in magic, but I have doctors waiting to fix you up. We’re almost there. Don’t quit on me, Sansa,” he ordered.

The pressure of her hand on his lessened. “I can’t feel my hands and feet, Petyr…”

Petyr turned his head to look at her fully and her eyes were lazy and drifting close.

“No! You open your eyes,” he commanded and pressed down hard again but this time she didn’t cry out.

Petyr could see it just ahead and prayed that Pycelle lived up to his word. He screeched into the empty lot and saw Pycelle and one man waiting. Petyr practically raced to the passenger side pulling her out. She was limp in his arms as he tried in vain to pick her up practically dragging her with the little strength he had left. Pycelle’s man met him halfway and lifted the girl into arms. Petyr followed watching her head fall lifelessly back as the man that carried her rushed inside. Pycelle was trying to see to Petyr’s injury as he pulled away and raced to follow them.

The surgical operating room the Syndicate put in place just for these types of emergencies was up and running. It was rarely used and even then, for only the elite that could afford such life-saving amenities. The staff hired for this, were always well-compensated and no questions were ever asked. Petyr caught up to the man just as he was laying her on the table.

“I think she's dead,” he told the medical team.

“Say that again and I will kill you on the spot,” Petyr’s voice spoke low and lethal. “One hundred thousand each as a bonus if you save her life… ” He eyed the surgeon and knew who he had saved in the past. “You know who I am. You know I am not to be trifled with.”

Petyr pulled the gun from behind his back and raised it to the nurse’s head. “Is that incentive enough?”

The man nodded fearfully and immediately set to work. Petyr watched as they cut her clothes away and prepped her for surgery. His heart ached seeing her this way and unshed tears stung his tired eyes.

 _This was not the way it was supposed to be for her_.

Petyr pulled over a chair and slumped down with the gun resting in his left hand. Occasionally, the male nurse would glance at him and then the gun, only to return focus on the surgeon’s needs. Petyr almost couldn’t feel the pain in his arm anymore. Perhaps his mind and heart had taken it all away as torturous thoughts plagued him.

It had all come full circle, a horrible déjà vu. Had he only saved her that terrible night months ago only to have her return for a worse fate? Petyr had saved her so many times and now he was sick at the thought of not being able to protect her again. This time, she came to rescue him and the thought tore him apart inside. He wasn’t worth her life. What kind of God would let this beautiful creature die for someone like him?

“You better let me look at that, Baelish. I don’t want you to kill me later because you lost your arm to blood loss and infection,” Pycelle stated warily as he knelt over him.

Petyr eyed him with contempt but ultimately held out his right arm. “If she dies, you’re the first one I kill, Py.”

The old man paused for a moment before wheeling over a cart to treat Petyr’s wounds. He was setting up the IV when Petyr warned him, “No, I want to stay awake. Only give me enough to dull the pain. You can treat me fully later. I want to know you’re taking care of your main priority.” Pycelle nodded his head and began cleaning up his hand and arm.

Time ticked by slowly and Petyr knew it was late. He had never been so tired in his life and fought not to drift off. Pycelle had finished some time ago and all Petyr could do was watch the spectacle in front of him.

“Doctor, come look at this,” the surgeon signaled as Pycelle was giving Petyr another dose.

Petyr observed as the old man moved to the table looking over the girl and unconsciously gripped the gun tighter in his good hand. He felt so powerless as he waited. The surgeon was speaking too low making it hard for Petyr to hear completely. “Look at the angle…Her body, had it been turned slightly to the right, the bullet would have…I don’t know what to make of it… with the amount of blood loss…”

Petyr heard the monitor sound as she flatlined and panic ensued around her. Wanting to get up but found he couldn't move as he was sinking deeper and deeper and couldn’t stop it. The voices became more muffled and Petyr wondered what Pycelle put in his drip. His body was falling and he wanted to crawl back up. He had to stay awake for her. He needed to know… and then it all went dark.

 

 

.  

 

 

 


	42. Under the Makeup

This is how it ends  
Each on our own  
Unless we pretend  
Meanwhile our hearts turn to stone  
Shaped by wind  
Boulders slowly molded over time  
Here within  
  
If you wanted out  
Didn’t I let you go  
If you wanted in  
Didn’t I make it so  
It could be  
Tenderness escapes so easily  
  
I want to see you  
Under the makeup

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The fingers that held the half-burned cigarette were icy as he watched winter clouds over the bay. Petyr glanced around his garden overlooking the sea and took it all in for the last time. In all his years in Kings Landing, this was the first time it had ever been this cold even during winter months. In a strange way, it was telling him this place and everything in it was dead.

There was one thing Petyr truly loved about this house and it was the sanctuary of the garden and peacefulness of this lovely view. He could sit out here for hours with a glass of wine and a pack of cigarettes. Now, it held no peace for him. There was nothing for him here. It was only a dark reminder of all the things he wanted to forget and leave behind.

The deal was done and finally, the house was sold. He could have left before but getting everything else in order took time. Petyr glanced down at his hand that was still partially bandaged. Flexing his hand, there was still a lingering soreness. Underneath those bandages lie skin graphs, nerve damage and two severed tendons, not to mention the fingernails that were taking forever to grow. His fingertips hurt every day and before he knew it, Petyr became quite proficient with his left hand.

He was furious at Pycelle when he woke up but considering the circumstances, it was truly was in Petyr’s best interests. By then he was too drugged up and the gun had been taken away for him to harm those that had worked so hard that night. He was a loose cannon ready to blow at any moment and rightfully distrustful of any and everyone. Pycelle had been a man of his word and it was surprising to Petyr that someone actually had good intentions after all in this rotten business. The old doctor told him Petyr would thank him later.

Months, it had taken, to try to erase the way she looked on the operating table. It was then when Pycelle told him she had been pregnant and Petyr fought hard not to show any emotion. They didn’t need to know what she meant to him. The trauma had aborted it in its early stages of life but it didn’t hurt any less at the thought of her carrying his child in all of this. Petyr often wondered if she had never come after him if she would have kept it or not. A life long reminder of the horror she faced or a perhaps a bittersweet one. He told her he loved her that night they made love in front of the fire but he had always regretted not telling her again before she lost consciousness in the car. Only once did Sansa tell him she loved him - that last night in Dorne. Her actions expressed it more than any words. Coming for him was pure love. Petyr took a slow drag of his cigarette and exhaled into the crisp air. All those what-ifs haunted him still.

 _Haunted_ , yes, that’s how he felt. Desire to release that feeling took him to the cemetery this morning with a single red rose. The frosty breeze nipped his skin and made his injured hand throb with pain. Petyr didn’t know how long he stood out there staring at the marble tombstone with the name STARK carved deeply. Justice had been served for her and the family but it came with an unbearable cost.

“It’s odd for me to speak to a piece of stone, but I’d like to think you can hear me," Petyr started softly not sure what to say. "I wanted to apologise to you. It’s rather late now, I know, but it still needs to be said. I tried to let you go but I was stubborn, arrogant and blind. I was selfish. I didn’t know how to let you go and I should have. I never wanted this for you or your family if you can believe me.” His gloved hand wiped a stray tear and knelt down to the smooth stone. “I don’t know how to explain how you shaped my life for better or for worse.” He paused for a long time and set the rose on top of the frost crusted marble. “Saying thank you, isn’t nearly enough. You’ll never know what you gave me in your death. There will always be a space in my heart for you.” Petyr kissed the stone with a soft “Goodbye” and left never to return.

There was a strange quiet in the city that had never been there before. Maybe because he no longer cared anymore was a sort of equanimity. Petyr had met with Jon Arryn over a month ago to make arrangements on how to run the badly crumbling business in the wake of so many deaths. Cersei had been in the flat when Ramsay torched it and was pronounced dead at the scene. Oddly, once Petyr wanted nothing more than to burn it all down and yet he didn’t feel the satisfaction he thought would come. Damn, he hated that Oberyn was right in more ways than one.

That night when Ramsay tortured him, he told Petyr that they were very much alike. Petyr laughed and was disgusted at the thought, but now in retrospect, the boy wasn’t that far off. He was right that Petyr never really got his hands dirty but he had blood on them all the same. Had it not been for Sansa, Petyr bet that he would have ended up just as remorseless and cruel as time went by. He murdered, blackmailed and sold his soul to the Devil. He murdered Sansa in all her innocence and sweetness. 

He was so consumed by the game and his obsession with Cat, the catalyst for it all, that he couldn’t feel for anything or anyone. Ramsay did teach him something that night. Revenge will ultimately kill you in the end in one way or another. No matter how high you climb, there would always be someone younger, smarter, more ruthless…to take it all away from you. At the time, Petyr didn’t see a future that wasn’t what he was already living. All he had was the game. Now, it was over. The only thing in his life that gave him hope was a young girl he found one fateful night.

Petyr had no idea what love could be until she came into his life. Sansa taught him what it was to be truly loved against all odds. That love was worth fighting and dying for. Petyr might have saved her life, but she saved his soul in so many ways. She saved him from himself. What he took from her was unforgivable.

A slight shiver went through him sitting outside on the patio. He would have been a lonely, bitter old man waiting for someone just like him to knock him off his throne. What good was money and power when you had nothing else to live for? Petyr understood Ned now more than ever. He understood why he wanted to get his family out.

 _Love_.

He only learned it too late. You can’t take money and power with you. Only love mattered in the end. Those that never had it or worse, threw it away; wished on their dying breath for one last moment with the one that mattered the most. For those that loved, the only grief was leaving the other behind or praying that they met again. Staring at Sansa on that operating table, Petyr knew what was most important to him. It was too much to watch those you love die before you.

After leaving the cemetery, Petyr met with Jon as he promised to give him his decision. Jon Arryn had been patient considering the circumstances and left his right-hand man to heal. Petyr didn’t make him any promises and told him he would consider every option. The gruesome events of that night would have been tough for any hardened company man to overcome.

As he entered the flat, Jon’s son, Robert, was running around playing and Petyr smiled sadly. He wasn’t sure if the boy would be better off without his mother or that the boy was hiding it well.

“Petyr, my boy…” Jon said shaking Petyr’s left hand. “Please, sit.” He gestured to the leather chair and offered Petyr a whiskey. “Robin, off you go, Uncle Petyr and I need to talk alone.”

The boy ran up and hugged Petyr as he always did as his father gave him a pat on the bum before he left the room shutting the door.

Petyr took a sip of his drink and asked, “How is he holding up?”

“Ah, he'll be fine. He cried it out after the funeral. The therapist said he could take some time, but he seems to be coming around,” Jon answered sitting down next to Petyr. “Have you given my offer any thought?”

Petyr found the cut crystal pattern suddenly very interesting as he turned the glass around in his hand. “Yes, I’ve given it serious thought,” he replied. Looking at his old friend, he’d known since childhood, a father figure that had taken him in the business and given him so much trust, that Petyr felt a twinge of remorse of his earlier plans to kill him.

“As much as I am flattered and grateful by your continued trust, I regret that I must decline. Once, I would have said yes instantly, but…” Petyr stalled knowing what he wanted to say and knew the old man wasn’t going to be happy about it. “Well, there are things that can change a man.”

Petyr glanced at the old man and waited. One didn’t exactly just quit the Syndicate. He knew what he was asking and it was a distinct possibility that he might not leave this house alive. Petyr wasn’t a coward just to run and leave everything. He had more respect for Jon than that through all of this. He was an honorable man in a dishonorable business. So was Ned Stark, but not as lucky. Yet, he was head of the mafia. 

“You’ve been very loyal to me all these years, Petyr,” Arryn said and Petyr had to keep himself from scoffing. The man knew nothing about him. “Are you sure about this? I thought I knew you. You’re not the kind of man that throws away an opportunity such as this. You’re perfect for this line of work…and when it’s time, I’ll give it all to you and Robert when he’s old enough.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Petyr answered slowly. “It’s time for a change. New scenery. I think I would like a bit of solace and retire. You’ll have all my sources and accounts, of course. I’ve already spoken with Martell and it’s done. The Mockingbird is now under Olyvar’s helmsmanship. He is loyal and trustworthy, I guarantee you. I’ve trained him well and I think you’ll be pleased with him.”

“You know I should dispose of you, don’t you? You know too much just to retire somewhere else,” Jon added eyeing him hard.

“True. I came here knowing just that. I can’t stop you,” Petyr answered nonchalantly looking at his bandaged hand. “My heart isn’t in it anymore, Jon. Threaten me all you like, it won’t change my mind. If I was going to stab you in the back, I would have done long before now,” he lied easily and added, “Ned wanted out didn’t he?”

Jon took his time before answering, “Yes, he came to me about it a few months before he was murdered.”

“And what was your reaction? Were you and the other houses just going to let him and his family leave?” Petyr needled.

“I advised him not to,” Jon offered cautiously and then added regretfully, “But I should have told him to go and take his family away. Now, they’re all dead. I’ve often worried if someone was going to kill my son and I… and when Lysa was found…” The man sighed and Petyr felt he hit the target. “Well, I’m too old and invested to walk away now. The Tyrells aren’t as blood-thirsty as Cersei and Roose but I still don’t trust them. That’s why I was hoping you would help me keep everyone in line. Your people respect you and you’ve managed the scare the fuck out of everyone else. With you gone, it will be that much harder,” Jon said with a slight pleading in his tired voice. “You don’t have family or loved ones to watch over. You can task risks. You know the business inside and out…”

“So, you need a man with nothing to live for except money and power?” he chuckled lightly.

Jon smiled thinly, “One, _I trust_.”

"Trust," Petyr chuckled, downing the rest of the amber liquid burning his throat. "We both know there is no such thing. I can say the same but won't be surprised if my car is rigged to blow the moment I drive away..."

"What assurances do I have if I let you go?"

Petyr raised his eyes to the old man. "My insurance policy is quite simple. We both know you weren't going to let me just walk. Here is just a sample of what I have safely hidden."

He took a small SD card and set it on the desk. 

"If anything happens to me, everything I have will find it's was to multiple news organizations. I know who is on our payroll at the police, judiciary and every politician. Listen, Jon, I have nothing against you unless you come for me. If you think I'm bluffing, by all means... try me. I just want to retire somewhere off the grid. You should offer this to Olyvar. The man took a bullet for me. He's loyal, trustworthy, and discreet. I've taught him well. He can run that club and keep making you money.

Jon eyed him warily.

"Give the boy the chance you gave me. I promise he will not disappoint. You’ll get more mileage out of him than me. He knows Martell and they'll work well together.”

“And if he can’t handle it?” the man asked.

“I’ll come back. You have my word,” Petyr lied as he stood up, setting the glass on the desk. 

 

* * *

 

Petyr finished his cigarette and flicked it out onto the wet stone. It was the least he could to do for the kid. Petyr wasn’t lying when he told Jon about Olyvar. He would do well running the Mockingbird. The boy knew practically everything and he had allies in both Petyr and Oberyn. He was young, ambitious, but cautious and patient. Petyr taught him well but certain things were just instinct. Petyr signed over the deed and would keep himself a silent partner if he was needed. That's what he told Olyvar at least before finishing a few loose ends. 

Yes, he was done with this city and no intention of returning. He had the apartment cleared out weeks ago before packing up the house as well. The place felt like a tomb now. Gone were his priceless works of art and most of the furniture and the rest would be moved to storage tomorrow. Petyr even found buyers for all of the cars giving firm finalization to it all. It was odd walking through the house this morning. Each room reminded him of her. He could see her stretched out on the sofa as he licked syrup from her fingers. Cleaning up in the kitchen. The way her feet dangled from the stool when eating at the counter. Standing by the phonograph looking through his records. Dancing and making love in front of the fire on the sheepskin rug that was no longer there. _The bedroom_. One that he was ready to share and make their own. The only good memories in this house were because of her. She tainted every room with her presence.

 

Petyr heard the sliding glass door open as footsteps slowly made their way behind him. Petyr closed his eyes and smiled in contentment.

Her arms came around his neck as she kissed the top of his head.

“You’re going to catch your death sitting out here,” she mused putting the cashmere throw around his shoulders.

“I needed a cigarette. It’s you that shouldn’t be out here,” he chided playfully patting her arm. “I really should quit,” he added somberly crumbling the empty pack of cigarettes in his left hand.

The redhead came around and sat on his lap leaning against his shoulder bringing the blanket around her.

“Did you get everything done today?” she asked softly.

“Yes," he answered. "All those pesky loose ends...nothing like a little blackmail to keep people quiet."

“He just let you go like that?”

Petyr smiled at the scepticism in her voice. “It took a little convincing. And…I made a promise I have no intention of keeping.” He caressed her legs bringing them up off the cold stone and felt her flinch a bit. “It’s still hurting? What did Pycelle say today?”

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world, had I turned just a few degrees left or right, I would have been dead. That it’s just one of those things you can’t explain. Blah, blah, blah. I told him that it was my magic stone and I rub it on my bullet wounds daily,” she laughed out loud.

Petyr chuckled, “And what did he say to that?”

“He thought I was mad. He said there's no permanent damage other than one ugly scar. Which reminds me… I have something to show you,” she teased and leaned away pulling down her bathrobe over her left shoulder. “One less ugly scar. Do you like it?”

Over the old gunshot, she had a fresh tattoo of a bird with a tail that scrolled down elegantly towards the swell of her breast.

“It’s a mockingbird,” she told him. “I had it done while you were out.”

“Did you fly to the tattoo parlor, too?” he wondered knowing the only car left was his Jag that he drove to the city.

“Oh, Martin does housecalls when properly motivated,” she teased. “He has a very artistic friend.”

“And how much did this motivation cost me?” Petyr smiled and lightly touched the artwork.

"You won't need to worry about him blabbing, just like Olyvar. Besides, by the time anyone gets to him... it won't matter any longer. Are you angry?” Sansa asked with concern on her face. 

“No,” he breathed kissing just above her breast careful to avoid the tender, pink skin. “Planning to cover the other after it’s fully healed?”

“Nope. That one I’m proud of,” she smiled as he raised his head to look at her.

“Well, I think this is beautiful,” he grinned while his bandaged finger traced around the bird tattoo. “I see you’ve gone back to red.”

“You just now noticed?” Sansa laughed and winced a little holding her side.

“I guess I’ve been too used to the black I almost forgot what your natural colour looked like,” he played running his fingers through her hair. “I went to your family’s grave today,” he added not sure why. “A little unfinished business. The headstone you picked out is lovely.”

“Why didn’t you say something, I would have gone with you,” she pouted a little.

Petyr continued playing with her hair and sighed, “It was something I needed to do by myself.”

He gazed in her eyes and without a word, he knew she understood. He loved this unspoken language they had between them. Sansa nodded and kissed him tenderly.

"I saw Py's car on the side of the road when I was heading back. The man could never resist a good scotch. The poison worked slower than I anticipated. Even if he made any phone calls, it won't matter. Jon isn't a fool. If Py didn't tell him about you, I'm sure he'll find out soon enough. Now it's just a question of what he fears more."

"You blackmailed him."

"I didn't keep all that evidence for nothing. I could still be petty and take them all down, or better, use it to protect us."

"So, now I'm guessing we take the boat?" Sansa wondered. "Do you think it would too obvious to head to Dorne? I think the worst would having to listen to Oberyn gloat. Frankly, I don't care where we go just as long as it's warm."

Petyr relished the idea of swinging in a hammock on a sandy beach somewhere. All he wanted was peace and quiet. 

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?” she smacked him in the chest making him grunt.

“Isn’t it a crime to abuse the elderly?” he jested and she went to playfully smack him again but he caught her hand in his and cursed. It was his bandaged hand and it stung deep. He hated being right-handed at the moment.

She apologized kissing his sore digits one by one. “We’re pathetic the two of us. Maybe we should just pay someone to push us both around in wheelchairs. We’ll eat, sleep and play shuffleboard with the other old farts.”

“Doesn’t sound bad. I’ll be the youngest man there and you won’t think to cheat on me,” he laughed at her joke.

“Unless, there’s a hot male nurse nearby,” she pointed out seriously and couldn’t keep a straight face.

“You still need to work on that poker face, sweetling,” Petyr smiled loving when they sparred like this. He could be eighty and she would still keep him young.

“I say we get the fuck out of this cold,” she closed her eyes and whispered deep in thought. “A white sand beach, margaritas, swinging in a hammock, lazy morning sex and sunsets with dancing….that’s what I want.”

She opened her eyes and the adoration there was his undoing. It was almost funny how well they understood each other. 

"Sounds like a romance novel," he grinned.

"Well, we've already finished the last chapter of our suspense thriller," she snuggled into him. "A cheesy romance doesn't sound so bad as a sequel. Granted I think our we'll a little too X-rated, though."

“Are you okay with just boring old me? I’m afraid I’m not very exciting outside of murder and intrigue,” he grinned. She curled back into him and they sat for a long time wrapped in the warmth of the blanket knowing they needed to move sooner or later. Sansa had not answered his last question and Petyr wondered if she really could be happy with him after all of this.

"You couldn't be boring if you tried. There's no suburbia-life for the likes of us," she laughed. "I know you. You already have a plan for after all of this, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question as she ran her fingers across his neck that was soothing.

“We could go to Braavos. I think you might like the city. Great old world charm, our money will go far there,” he added with a hint of hesitation.

“Annnd?”

“And I happen to have a little enterprise there,” he smirked as she pulled back raising her eyebrows at him.

“Not another nightclub or brothel, I hope,” she sneered jokingly.

“Nope. An investment. At my age, you have to think ahead,” he grinned widely but refused to tell her any more.

"I can't stand the suspense any longer. I'm heading upstairs to change. "We're leaving today, for sure?"

"Yes," he patted her thigh. "I'll be up in a minute."

Sansa kissed him lightly, and retreated back inside, closing the door. 

After a few minutes, the door slid open again and Petyr chuckled, "What did you forget?"

It was quiet and Petyr froze but not from the cold. The click of a gun's hammer echoed and yet the man did not fire. 

"Hello Ol'," Petyr breathed after a moment. "I can't blame you. Jon is a persuasive man."

"Let me see your hands," Olyvar ordered softly. "Slowly."

Petyr raised his hands. He didn't have a gun or a weapon of any kind. His only thought was of Sansa upstairs. 

"I suppose I should say I'm disappointed but I would have done the same thing in your shoes," he placated for time, trying to work out a solution to this problem.

"Where is she?"

Just as he thought, Jon knew about Sansa. Petyr chuckled deeply as he remained seated with once-loyal assistant behind him, the gun most likely pointed at his head. 

"So he thinks by putting her in danger, I'll give up my wonderful plan of blackmail and secrets against him?"

"Where is she, Petyr?"

"Gone. I sent her away the moment she was well enough. Do you really think I would keep her here after everything that happened to her? Jon will never find her," he lied simply. "I knew Py wouldn't keep his mouth shut."

"Stand up so I can see you don't have anything," Olyvar commanded but something in his voice was off.

"What are you waiting for?" Petyr turned slowly and wondered how the blonde got inside. He spied the open door by the dining room and realized Sansa must have used it, loading the boat today. Olyvar probably jumped the fence, yet the alarm didn't sound. "You know Jon is going to kill you if you don't kill me. Do you really think you can take my place? It's more than running a nightclub, my friend."

Olyvar was quiet but his hand was steady. 

"If Jon had sent one of his henchmen, they would not have wasted so much time. I would have been dead already. He's testing you," Petyr offered evenly. "But I know something that he doesn't."

"I didn't survive Ramsay just to have Jon kill me," Olyvar protested. 

"Here's the problem, you're not a killer and we both know it."

"I'm sorry, Petyr. I promise to leave Alayne, if that's her name, alone. I'll figure out what to tell Jon. I'll save her for you. You know I'm dead if I don't do this."

Petyr grinned and lowered his hands when a loud click sounded next to the blonde's head. 

"I don't need saving, thank you," Sansa growled, pressing the gun to the back of Olyvar's head. "Drop it, or I'll splatter your brains across the pool."

The blonde's hand began to quiver but he didn't lower the gun. 

"Doubt me? I shot Ramsay in the chest. I poisoned Joffrey and executed a mother fucking rapist."

After a moment, the sound of the gun clattering on the tile broke the silence.

"Sit down," Sansa demanded, never wavering for a second. She kept the barrel pressed to the back of the blonde's head. 

Petyr made his way to her, asking "Want me to take over?"

Sansa came around to face the man in the chair, standing beside Petyr.

"No, I got this. Who else is going to protect your ass? You're fucking lucky I saw everything on the security monitor upstairs. Don't go getting sloppy on me now, Petyr."

Petyr smiled and shrugged his shoulders while staring at Olyvar. "You did leave the door open, sweetling..."

"Semantics," Sansa retorted keeping her eyes fixed on the blonde. "Who else knows you're here, Ol'?"

"Only Jon," he sighed. "I came alone. I was hoping to God you had already left. Just get it over with. I'm dead either way."

"All in good time," Sansa studied him. "What do you think, Petyr?"

"He's a dead man," he replied. "No way Jon will let him live. Might torture the fuck out of him first though. Do you want me to do it? I'll make it quick, I promise Ol'. I can give you that much.... _unless_."

"What?" Sansa gaped at him with wide eyes. "He was going to kill you."

"If he was going to kill me, he would have. He could have betrayed both of us long before now."

"How do you know I didn't?" Olyvar asked. 

"Because I do. If you had actually pulled the trigger, I would have been surprised. You're not ruthless and cruel and that's what I am. I would have killed you without a second's thought. However, you helped save me even though it pissed me off that you told her about Ramsay. I can't blame you in that either since you almost died."

" _Petyr_..."

"Sweetling, you surprise even me. I expected you to try and talk me out of killing him for sentimental reasons," he smiled sweetly. 

"Don't' patronize me, damnit," Sansa replied hotly. "I like Ol as much as you, but if he goes back to Jon..."

"He's not. Because he's going to Dorne," Petyr chuckled. "Plan B, darling. I figured something like this might happen. We would have had more advance notice but nothing that can't be handled."

"Dorne?" Olyvar stuttered. "But why would you..."

"You'll go to work for Martell. He owes me a favor and will keep an eye on you. You saved my life, now I'm giving you only one chance to save your own," Petyr offered. "This is the most generous you will ever find me. I would take advantage of it. Betray either of us, and you'll wish I let her kill you today, understand?"

Olyvar could only nod in agreement. He had no other choice if he wanted to live. Petyr picked up Olyvar's gun, taking over. 

"Sweetling, finish with the boat. We're leaving now," Petyr directed. "Ol, come with me."

"Petyr are you sure?" She looked at him holding the gun in his left hand instead of his right, injured hand.

"Please do as I say," he smiled. "This part is a bit gruesome. I'd rather not have you in here for it."

Both Sansa and Olyvar froze at those words. Petyr nudged the gun, pushing Olyvar towards the garage. He glanced back at Sansa, who hadn't moved a muscle.

"We have very little time," he said and she reluctantly moved to go upstairs and gather the last of their belongings.

Petyr moved Olyvar inside and directed him towards a small freezer.

"Open it and grab the bags," he ordered.

"What the fuck, Petyr..."

"I never leave anything to chance. After sending the media everything I have on the Syndicate, I want them to believe we're dead."

As they came out, Sansa ran down the stairs and out to the awaiting boat, not stopping to ask questions. Petyr couldn't help but smile. She knew better. His little bird had learned so much. Whether she liked it or not, she was becoming a woman that god forbid any man try and fuck with. She saw an intruder and didn't even think twice about taking a gun and coming to his defense. Petyr couldn't have been more proud and the strong woman she had become. It still came with a grain of salt. He never wanted her to go through such horrors but she came out of it with a new lease on life. Petyr wasn't going to take any more chances. This shit ended today.

Going to his office, he opened a locked cabinet and heard Olyvar curse. Petyr had enough explosives to blow this house across the sea. He set up the detonator and grabbed the remote. Once on the patio, he told Olyvar to dump the contents of the bags along a wide area and into the garden.

"Jesus Christ...." the blonde gagged, as body parts of both a man and woman scattered on the ground. "Who are they?"

"No one," he replied, making sure Sansa didn't come back up to the garden. "My medical records do not exist and she is already dead. They'll think you've run off or are dead yourself. There should be next to nothing left of this place. I could pull a couple of your teeth and maybe they'll believe your body disintegrated in the blast, it's up to you."

Olyvar stared at him in horror.

"See? _That's_ what it takes to be me. Jon is an idiot. Do as I say, stay in Dorne and you should live a decent life."

Petyr took the boat out far enough into the bay as he and Sansa looked at the house. 

"What will they do when they don't find our bodies?" Sansa held his arm as they stood on the flybridge. It was bitterly cold out on the water and Petyr needed to make this quick. 

Petyr hit the remote and the explosion rained debris all over the point of the bay, with chunks of fiery concrete hitting the water. 

"We'll never have to worry about them again," Petyr murmured looking at her. "Do you believe me?"

Sansa knew about all the evidence he was considering releasing to the media and nodded. 

"We're ghosts," she whispered. "Oberyn and Olyvar?"

"Martell is clean. I left him out of it all," Petyr smirked. "He knows damn well, how much I have on him and won't turn him in. A mutual respect so to speak. Plus, he likes you more than me. I'll take Ol's handcuffs when we reach Dorne and sell the boat. Lay low for a year or two...maybe go to Braavos and "

"Then what?"

Petyr wrapped his arms around her, feeling a shiver from the cold and breathed along her neck. 

"I'll have the fiercest partner I could have dreamed of. My equal in all things. One I can love unconditionally and would never betray... considering you've killed three men already. Why would I fuck with my chances?" he laughed as Sansa playfully slapped him. 

“Does it require me saving your arrogant arse again?” she laughed kissing him.

Petyr sighed into her kiss. “Oh jealous of all men to have such a beautiful savior.”

 

**THE END**

 

 

 


End file.
